I wonder if the intensity of our memories is more dependent on the point of recognition or the time of recollection? Are details better stored when first gathered by the senses, or is it the later reflective procedure that decides what accuracy, lucidity, validity is apropos? Logic would suggest the latter; memories fade with time; our brains become weaker, obeying the laws of thermodynamics, entropy, etc. However, when I’ve unwittingly annoyed some casual character by forgetting their name, they were not assessing my powers of perception, they’re upset because I hadn’t remembered their name when introduced – that I didn’t register them as being important, so didn’t bother to retain the fact – is seen as extremely disrespectful, in certain circles.
  Recalling a location on return after several years away – comes back easy, and you see which parts have changed, for better or worse – more acutely than the locals. Maybe related to ancient, migratory, hunter-gathering savvy? Like revisiting a venue. Once you’ve been to a racetrack, stadium, arena then see it on the screen of some media machine you have an intimate, immediate, cozy connection – having touched those surfaces, felt the furniture – you KNOW the spaces, the third dimensions not accessed on the telly; the smells, sounds, petty procedures, shortcuts, best bits, bottlenecks, etc. Keeps it REAL!
  Walter Benjamin, referencing Proust, discusses memoir volunteer as a founding factor in the booming domestic photography craze of the early 1900s with its easy access to cheap and cheerful memories-on-demand; to contrast Proust’s memoir involunteer of sudden, personal, primal flashbacks caused by some random, rushed exposure; in his case the subtle scent of citrus linked to his childhood sickbed treat of lemon sponge cake Madeleine. Both brilliant sensual observations.
  The way we absorb trivial details; names, facts, dates, those ranks and files of a subject we find of actual interest – some personal passion, kinky quirk that’s relevant to nothing for nobody else. While important, official, necessary data on humdrum business to answer some mundane examination question is impossible to keep inside your head – by design?
  ROM v RAM to run your computer, and the genius fucker who dreamt that up? The cold, read-only, hard information that’s stored in the id then the egoistic, random-access, hot, ephemeral, dynamic details that get stuff done in your day-to-day. I joked during Covid of needing to ignore diurnal details; that if I remembered previous incidents of shaving, showering, tying shoe laces it would drive me crazier with each repeat. They reckon it’s one of the reasons we dream, to counter autism; we need to erase our RAM minutiae or go completely raving mad!
  A few years ago I attended dementia group singing and dancing sessions at the Southgate Methodist Church supporting a sorely afflicted friend and his suffering wife. Talking to one of the amazingly patient nursing attendants, discussing my own confusing of names was told, ‘Don’t worry if you can’t recall nouns, it’s when you forget verbs that you have a problem!’ Is excellent advice, and certainly eases the frustrating frets.
  Senility was often linked with excessive alcohol consumption, used to be blamed on those acrid fumes rotting your brain or some such saga. They’ve since discovered that severe liver damage does cause decline in mental acuity. One of the primary signals of hepatitis infection is reduction in capacity and they still don’t know why, although they suspect that vital fluids inefficiently filtered by a cirrhotic liver will carry all toxins straight up to the brain – there to wreak havoc!
  Such ‘age-related cognitive issues’ only matter when they bring you bother. When fuddled facts and muddled mentions cause concern with embarrassed smiles and condescension from pertly patronizing passersby. The trick is not to give a toss, I hope?