Perfect Moments

Ah, August Bank Holiday!  Possibly my favourite public holiday of the year.  Not that it makes much difference to me in reality, as I'm usually on holiday anyway whenever it rolls around.  But bank holidays have a special feel to them - that sense of freedom and temporary release from everyday stresses.  Especially when it is a beautiful sunny day like today.  As with every other August Bank Holiday, I didn't go to the Notting Hill Carnival or do any of the things I always tell myself I'm going to do one of these August Bank Holidays. Instead, I broke with my golden rule that 'nothing ever happens the same way twice' and attempted to recreate the magic of an August Bank Holiday past.  Perhaps I should elaborate on this golden rule of mine.  It's actually quite simple: in our lives, we all experience those 'moments' which seem perfect, when we are at ease with ourselves and the world, perhaps, or of perfect elation, or those times when you feel that you've made some kind of connection - no matter how fleeting - with another human being, which leaves you brimming over with a sensation of warmth and happiness.  But these moments are unique, created by a set of circumstances which will probably never occur again.  Yet we try, in futility, to recreate them, by revisiting the places they occurred, seeking out the people they happened with, trying to go through the exact same motions again.  It never works.

Not only have I been guilty of this myself, but I've lost count of the number of times I've seen other people torture themselves by doing the same thing - ultimately driving themselves into depression.  I suppose it is like those people who have survived a war.  Many times I've been told by people who have seen battle that those moments when you realise that you are in the presence of death - when it is clear that, at any moment your life could be, quite arbitrarily, be ended by a stray shell or bullet - you experience exhilaration.  They say that in those moments when they face death, they feel more alive than at any other time.  And many of them spend the rest of their lives trying to recreate those moments.  Some drift around the world, looking for similar experiences, or just hoping that the sheer exoticism of foreign locales can rekindle that exhilaration.  Others engage in all manner of high-risk activities, like extreme sports, in order to try and feel that kick once more.  Of course, none of it works.  I've come to the conclusion that we just have to be thankful for those 'perfect moments' we've experienced and hope that, at some point in the future, all the right factors will come together again to create another one for us.  Until then, we just have to hold on to our memories of the previous ones.

But to return to today's misbegotten attempt, I decided to go back to a place where, a few years ago - on an August Bank Holiday, I had experienced a damn near perfect late Summer's day, which had taken me back to my childhood.  Obviously, it didn't work.  Too much had change: different crops in the fields so there were no rolls of hay and one of the landmarks - some ruined agricultural buildings - were now overgrown and inaccessible.  Nevertheless, I did have an enjoyable afternoon.  Just not in the same way it was the first time.  Oh, and I fell off a log.  And yes, it was easy.