Memories and elephants are playing in the band.

I still know most of the words to Baby Got Back. Normally I pat myself on the back when I remember them, congratulating myself on my hip-ness. Today though, I wish I could forget them. Not that those are the lyrics presently on rotation in my brain (I have to blame Elvis for my present ‘Love Me Tender’ jag, but he’s dead so I don’t think he’ll care..) but they’re taking up room SOMEWHERE and I’d like to use that space for something a little more constructive and useless.

Memory is an amazing thing – smells conjure up recollections of teenage crushes, sounds of geckos the heady days of sneaking out at night and back in the morning before anyone noticed, that particular shade of baby blue reminding me of my Grandma. I've a very visual memory, which is fantastic for finding the keys and embarrassing for most of my teenage years. Sometimes, memory likes to shed the skin of pleasant reminiscences and rear the ugly head of ‘gosh, I wish I forgot that’.

We visited some friends the other day and for the first time I hung out properly with some folk I went to high school with. Let’s call them Nigel & Nancy. There we were, four adults (hubbie met them for the 1st time) and all I had going through my head was the time I admired Nigel as he stood in front of a bonfire clad only in ren & stimpy boxer shorts on a school camp. And how Nancy flashed me her breasts in year 11, and then commenced to make out with 2 guys simultaneously. Some things just stick in your memory, you know?

I wouldn’t mind losing some memories, so that I can move on without seeing flashes of naked flesh while we’re being very civilised over tea and cake.