Memories.

The memory is often frustrating, often infuriating, but sometimes truly amazing.

Today I stood, as I do at least twice a week, on the edge of the 'central business district' of Scarborough and glanced down the steep hill that leads down to the harbour.

Immediately I relaxed. I stopped what I was doing and was transported.

The area that today happened to be bathed in late afternoon sunlight is part of the Castle Hill where as a child I played, and when standing there with your back to the Castle you are looking down on the harbour and the magnificent sweep of the South Bay.

The view I had from my bedroom window for the first six years of my life.

Today of course I couldn't really see the harbour and bay. But it was just as if I could. That's where memory comes in.