An Unreliable Narrator

Having read, re-read, edited, and re-edited the first (not-crossposted) post in this blog, I’ve been struck once again by how utterly wank my memory is.

I’ve always considered myself to have poor recollection, but the number of times I had to write off questionnaire prompts with an “I dunno lol”, or had to shout through to the Ginger and to ask for help borders on the ridiculous.

For example: I genuinely couldn’t┬áremember going to Scandinavia until I asked him if we’d gone on holiday in 2016. I think that would stick in the mind of most people. Particularly if those people had never been to Scandinavia, were terrified of flying, and were going solo on an epic train journey to meet an adorable and talented Swede.

2016 was apparently the year I aged two years and stopped existing for 12 months.

No wonder it was so shit.

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