Since my recent blog bemoaning the loss of memory a bit of work has been taking place on stimulating whatever part of the brain is responsible for storing and recalling past events.
I’ve been doing some ghosting. In other words, visiting old haunts.
No need to wrap the body in white sheets and utter some mournful moans of “whoo hoo” or any other spooky phrases.
Simply check the postcodes of places where I once lived, key them into the sat nav and the journey into the long ago could begin.
Fortunately, recalling these addresses presents no problem. They are the broad brushstrokes I mentioned earlier; it is the detail that