As children, my cousin J and I were always the 'naughty ones' and slightly older than our brothers, who we used to torment with practical jokes and what we thought were clever mindgames.
One of the stories that my Auntie and Mother take great glee at recounting during each and every family gathering is how J and I once painted my Uncle's car simply because we 'didn't like the colour.' We got into big trouble and "that time when B and J painted Dad's car" is always sited as the perfect example to illustrate what little shits the two of us were back in the 1970s.
Last New Year's Eve, my little cousin T (now 40) confessed to my old Partner-in-Crime that, in fact, it was he and my own brother who had painted the Ford Consul an unsightly shade of yellow and put the blame on us: we'd had nothing whatsoever to do with it! We must have pleaded our innocence at the time but our previous childhood pranks pointed towards us being the culprits and we have always stood guilty.
Until now! Now, no-one mentions the incident apart from my cousin J, who, I think, wants forgiveness and/or retribution:
"The bastards even had me believing that we'd painted the car for 32 fucking years," he lamented on Boxing Day.
Family memory had convinced us of our culpability!
What is memory? And who puts is there? Is yours compartmentalised or is it random? How is it triggered? Do you have involuntary flashbacks or do you sit and recall events purposefully? Have you remembered something for years that you later found out to be erroneous? How did you discover the truth? How did you feel?
Share with us your memories....