I Remember That! (Or Do I?)

It's funny how your memory can play sneaky little tricks on you. Things you thought you'd remembered perfectly - dates, times, places - suddenly turn out to be incorrect.

This happened to me last night while I was writing a chapter for my latest book, the semi-autobiographical 80s rock one.

In January of 1989 I went for an audition with a band called Whip Me Harvey who were a popular local rock band whose bassist, a guy called Tom who was also a friend of mine, had just walked out on them.

Prior to reaching this point in my tale, I had already written about the genesis of the band I formed that I first played live with in September 1989, but which had actually formed before Christmas in 1988. Or so I have believed for a good few years.

You see, the day of the Whip Me Harvey audition coincided with an event that I vividly remember and which was widely reported in the media. On Sunday 8th January 1989, a Boeing 737 crashed onto the M1 motorway, a few yards short of the actual runway, killing 47 people.

Clearly, this is the sort of event you remember, and so by extension I remembered the exact date of the Whip Me Harvey audition. The problem was that I didn't put together the other band until after I had auditioned for Whip Me Harvey. Therefore I couldn't have put it together before Christmas 1988, and so I had to go back through several chapters and rewrite history to more accurately reflect what actually happened.

Though it was a pain in the backside, and the chronology matters to nobody except me, I gladly put myself through the pain because I wanted it to be as truthful as I could possibly make it. Sure, nobody would ever have known, or cared for that matter, if I auditioned for Whip Me Harvey before I put Alter Ego, my other band, together.

Nobody, that is, except me. As a result of my rewriting, I can sleep soundly knowing that I have effectively rediscovered some of the truth of my life that I had forgotten, despite having been there at the time.

In truth, that's partly why I'm writing this book - for me - so that when I'm old, senile and feeble I can relive my youth through the power of my own words. If anyone else is entertained by my tale, then that's all icing on the cake.