Memory Day

Strange how one random event or memory leads to a whole stuffed cupboard full of them. You open the door and a heap come tumbling into your lap, like badly stacked towels on the linen shelf.

Today I happened upon the photo of my wedding dress fitting. The designer was Lebanese. I then got to thinking of my Lebanese hairdresser Josef. I’ve never had such a good hairdresser, anywhere, any time. Later in the afternoon, I started to cook a simple supper, as I am eating alone for three weeks whilst “The Dearly Beloved” travels. I have been trying my hand at mujadarah. The first time I ate this lentil, rice and onion dish I was with my Canadian flat mate, who now lives in Lebanon.

After the Lebanese pile of towels fell out, I struggled with a precarious pile of childhood memories that tumbled from the top shelf. You remember when you pulled at that jigsaw which had all the other box games on top of it? You thought you had it, then at the last minute three other boxes flew out which you couldn’t see, because you were only 4’5” tall?

As I watched a bumble bee do acrobatics from the wisteria and honey bees wander on the lavender, I was reminded of visiting the manicured gardens of stately homes with my grandpa, and listening to a love hungry song thrush for twenty minutes, I could have been in my grandpa’s orchard, sitting under a tree with a windfall apple.

Who needs antibiotics and painkillers for a chest infection, when the memories of Lebanon, Lavender and Mujadarah, is so heavenly "It makes you forget everything"