What's the thing no one believes you can actually remember?

Hmmmm.  I remember being in a cot (not mine) with some of sort silvery things hanging from strings hanging from the ceiling.  Someone who I suspect was dad getting me of the cot and and taking me down some spiral stairs.  If I was in a cot i'm assuming I was pretty young.  The person who suspects this may not be true is me.  It feels that this is a false memory.  It's something I doubt i'd ever be in a position to distinguish the truth from a dream.

Using the following template as a jumping-off point, write about a lesson you learned or an insight you gained. At the time, I felt/thought/acted ___________. Now I see/understand/admit that ____________.

At the time, I felt a little trapped.  I guess we'd driven about three thousands miles together in a very small crammed car.  We were driving to Mongolia and I we'd probably got as far as Russia when cracks began to appear.  With the route we were taking there were still around seven and a half thousand to go.  It's safe to assume that neither of us were enjoying the trip at that point in time.  It wasn't really about each other so much as that we both wanted different things.  One of us wanted to travel very much in a convoy and the other wanted to break free and travel along - or at least with perhaps one other car.  I wanted to break free.  For me this was so obvious.  The more people you travel with the more tied you were to the slowest people in the group.  Your timetable was totally dictated by other people.  Was this trip not as much about adventure as it was freedom to travel unhindered?  Sure, I took his point that at some point further on we'd be getting to some places where safety in numbers made since but...  Well, it seemed a while off and a couple of cars felt safe enough for me.  We trekked on (slowly) and just spoke less.  It resolved itself when my co-drive decided to fly home in middle of Kyrgyzstan.  I felt bother relieve and guilty.  It would have been nice both to get to the finish line.   Now I see that when embarking on such an adventure the most important thing to have the same mindset with what you want to get out it.

What year was your year of maximum coolness?

You don't know me, right?  Cool?  I think not.  To do anything in order to look cool is surely to miss the point.  We do 'cool' things so when we're old and infirm and looking back over life we can know the time wasn't squandered.  To self-describe as cool must surely immediately remove you from that attribute?

You should however strive to do things which YOU think are cool.  I've driven from London to Mongolia in a shitty car, across the width of America, etc..  They feel like cool things to do but in no way infer any coolness onto me.

Do things interesting things which make you happy for the act of doing them.

Write about the natural disaster experience you had, never had/or wish you'd had.

Whilst i've travelled quite a bit (forty-three countries so far) i've managed to avoid being involved in a natural disaster.  Do I wish i'd been in one?  Well, no - not really.  I suppose we're all interested in finding out how we'd react in such a circumstance but that seems a risky proposition.  What if I find out i'm awful and just run around getting in people's ways and smacking into walls?  Perhaps, just perhaps there won't be a hero inside of me.  Also, a natural disaster of any magnitude isn't only going to affect me so what kind of arse would it make me to inflict that on other just so I could have the experience.  There are enough experiences to be had out there without needing to get mixed up in a disaster.  The name says it all 'disaster'.  They don't tend to end well.  Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.

What's the biggest position of power you've ever held? How did it change you?

Never had it.  Never wanted it.  That's it.

This is a writing exercise say more.

No.  There's no need.  Why use more than the necessary amount of words to get the point across?

Picture a photo from your childhood, one you know well. Narrate the scene around the taking of the that photo, to the best of your memory

I like photography.  I studied it at college in the early nineties and after a big old gap started to take it up again around five years ago (2010).  I think about photography a lot and the different motivations for taking photographs.  This question, I would say, relates to family snaps.  We take these to remember events we may not remember otherwise.  This is a roundabout way of saying that i've no recollection of any photo being taken.  The photo itself is the memory.

The dish your mom always cooked that you wish she wouldn't. What did look like, smell like, taste like?

Nothing.  Well, nothing that sticks in my memory.  I can quite imagine that if I didn't like something that it wouldn't get cooked again.  That's how life works, right?  I mean why would anyone cook something that wasn't liked?

Food I did love.  But that's not the question.  Yeah?  Well, I'm at the keyboard not you.

Two things immediately spring to mind.  In chronological order we start with Spudwiches.  They'd been mentioned in the 9th Blue Peter Annual (which came out in 1972).  I think the recipe was pretty much just mashed potato, a later of corned beef, then repeat a few times and throw in the oven.  Good simple food.  I'm sure I had a tonne of it.

Secondly was Sausage Pie.  At secondary school (1983-1988) Tuesday was sausage pie day.  A dish with a base about the size of an adult hand into which were chucked three layers.  Sausage meat, plum tomatoes and mash on top.  It's every bit as lovely as it is simple and in writing this entry we've decided to make one this evening.