Drove down a very literal memory lane first thing this morning. First two hours were admittedly not super nostalgic, but when I slowly approached the location that was so synonymous with Malory Towers in my mind, I started to feel all warm and fuzzy. Is there a word for a homecoming for somewhere you've never lived? The Germans or the Japanese almost certainly have a phrase for it, but we'll just call it a bittersweet sense of relocation. So many memories of Malory came flooding back on approach. The wrap parties, the landscape but most of all the people. Like all the cells in our bodies, coming back felt so alien yet so familiar. Something old and something new at the same time.
Somehow I lucked out and landed in the same accomodation wing as all of our big dog HOD's. (It was also where we put the cast up on Malory). We threw darts, shot pool and drank arguably too much for a school night. All the while I glanced at the pub tables and booths where past crew members and I sat. I remembered the conversations, their energy, their ghosts. But in this space I made new memories, just as fond as the old ones. Their moments overlap and interwine all at once, not unlike remembering multiple Christmases from long since past. What a hell of a thing time and memory is.
