Isn’t it funny that every now and then, through a little trigger, a forgotten memory bubbles to the surface? In my case, they’re often the not meaningful memories, but more the ‘oh-yeah!-moments’. This is probably also why these moments disappeared so quickly from my mind.

This week, I was streaming the album Introducing The Hardline According to Sananda Maitreya. An album from the 1980s with a slightly different title then, as Terence Trent D’Arby changed his name to Sananda Maitreya years ago. Contrary to the rave reviews about the album at the time, I was not a big fan. I was allowed to borrow it from a colleague at the time, Jolanda. I listened to the album once and also immediately recorded it on a cassette tape. I don’t think I listened that much to the album after that. Until recent days, after thirty-seven years. I do appreciate the album a little more.

It was while listening to the album, from work, on the way home that one memory from long ago suddenly bubbled up. The memory is an accusation by my colleague Jolanda, at the time (± 35 years ago), that I had borrowed her album and when I returned it to her, she said it was full of fingerprints and stains on the vinyl. Even then, I don’t remember smudging the album with greasy fingers. It was something I couldn’t reply to. I could deny it, but I’m sure Jolanda was convinced of my greasy actions. And with that I leave the memory as I dealt with it back in the 1980s; I’m going to forget about it.