Of coco-pops, bruises and mathematics

Childhood memories stick around. They hide for years, under your skin, deep and out of  view; but they’re always there. Some time ago, I found myself musing over breakfast wares at the supermarket, weighting options. An isle I’ve regularly perused, weekly or so, without nothing more noticeable happening than eventually making my mind up over one of the few “no palm oil” cereal boxes. Not on that day, though. That day, that ever un-chosen box, as innocuous and colourful a carton as it had always been, triggered something it had failed to trigger earlier. Memories are like tame beasts. They need just one wrong movement, a change of conditions, an inadvertent flash in the corner of the eye to go back to being the wild animal that will eventually go for your throat. It was maybe my daughter’s fault: by being born, she allowed my childhood memories to resurface so violently. Continue reading “Of coco-pops, bruises and mathematics”

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