The CNE in sharp focus or a blur of colour and memory

If you’re anything like me, there are two memory bins labelled “childhood” in your brain: the first is abstracted and full of impressions, a jumble of feelings and colours – most of them surreal – and the blurring and bleeding of, say, 10 Christmases or 10 birthdays into one; while the other bin stores the isolated, hyper-real, intense and usually traumatic moments.

For instance, in latter bin is my getting lost at the Canadian National Exhibition memory. In sharp focus is the jumble of adult legs (most wearing rayon since it was a cool and breezy day in the 1970s) that I crashed through as I screamed for my mother, the annoyed faces that looked down at me, and the terror I felt for what seemed like a half-hour but, in reality, was probably two minutes until my sweaty little hand was plucked upward and I heard my mother say: “Oh there you are, David. Try not to do that again.”