This month marks five years since we left for our time in Sweden.

The coming of spring inevitably invokes memories of our Scandinavian adventure, where most days consisted of crystal clear blue skies and the glint of the archipelago waters. We arrived on seemingly the final day of winter, its frosted fingers lingering on the piles of ploughed snow which were to soon disappear.

I love the way that the further through life you go the more of these emotional connections your experiences make with the world around you.

For instance, cold and drizzly nights always take me back to climbing the long set of steps past the student union building on the way to a late midwinter lecture in 2007 (see Fine Winter Rain).

Watching the tide come in will always be guessing how long it’s going to take to reach beached objects on a breezy summer’s night in St. Servan.

Squid rings will always be the alien ‘tuba de pota’ we cooked and, not brave enough to eat, discarded in a blazing hot public waste bin in the Latin quarter of Barcelona.

Memories enrich life in a beautiful way. They weave us into our surroundings. They add colour to our perceptions and personalise everything they touch. Our memories are like children that we attach to the world as a legacy for after we have gone.

Even though Sweden didn’t work out, that doesn’t detract from the experience. I think the past only begins to sour when it is all you have. Since that particular adventure ended I have concentrated on the next one and then the next one and so on.

When I think about the last five post-Stockholm years I feel happy with the wealth of memories I have chalked up. I can treasure and be content with one concluded dream because I keep dreaming, keep being brave and keep rolling the dice.

This month's favourites:
   David Bowie, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars
   Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero
   Persepolis (2007)