This weekend I put up Christmas decorations and fairy lights. I was reminded of a funny conversation when my dad was still alive, and of how fragile and selective human memory can be. "When the children were little we used to go to a donkey festival in Modbury" said my dad. Nobody else in the family remembered a donkey festival, or believed that such a thing ever happened, but the old man was pretty definite. It was in a little pub, there was beer and mulled wine, and there was a stable at the back with a real live donkey that the children could pet. My sister eventually worked out what he was talking about which was a Christmas festival with a Nativity scene. He'd remembered the pub, the booze, the donkey, and the children but ignored Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the Christmas trappings and religious sentiment.
Richard "donkey-fest'71" B
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