Cold, Flu and Deja-Vu

As I write this the weather here in Cornwall is very stormy at present. And I have a head and chest cold. Maybe a touch of the flu.

I sit here sneezing and sniffling and listening to the wing howling past the windows of my loft apartment and rattling the tiles on the roof. Sometimes the wind really shrieks, and it can make me jump a little, and at those times you could almost swear that someone was being murdered right there under you window.

And so, as I said I sit here sniffling with a cup of hot chocolate in my hands listening to the wind and the rain beating against the window panes and listening too to the sea, as the breaking surf pounds relentlessly against the shore and the rocks way below me. I hear the waves forcing their way up the beaches, and as I listen to them I realise that I am listening to a sound that has been there for more than 225 million years. Predating even the dinosaurs. Predating all life on Earth. A sound part of the evolution of the universe itself. Thought of in this way, the ocean's roar is quite sobering and it's a privilege to hear it.

It's cold too. And as I have maybe a touch of flu I decide it's time to turn in for the night. I always have the roof window open in my bedroom as I like to feel the blast of fresh sea air against my face….and I can hear the pounding of the sea as it lulls me to sleep.

For the last few days the cold weather has penetrated into my bedroom in the early hours of the morning, causing me to awaken early and feeling quite chilly. So on this occasion I dig out my old(ish) hot water bottle (yes really,) fill it up, wrap it in a towel and put it under the duvet so I have a nice warm bed to get into.

And so to bed I go. As I climb in and turn to switch off the bedside lamp, my right foot touches the wrapped hot water bottle and at that very instant I get a flash of deja-vu.

It stops me in my tracks and I stay as I am for a few moments, very still with my hand still reaching for the bedside lamp switch, and I wonder what brought on the "been here before" feeling. What, if anything, has happened in the past to suddenly trigger that strange sensation in my brain. Maybe the whole point of deja-vu is that it remains a mystery, but whatever the trigger was, the feeling had set my mind on a journey of long ago.

I remember as a young child, I was on a holiday to the coast with my mother, aunt and grandmother and small cousin. We had hired a caravan (trailer) at a relatively lonely, but very beautiful spot on the east coast of northern England. The campsite were we stayed had no electric on site. And so the caravan had only gas mantles and heaters. It gave out a curious, victorian kind of atmosphere.

I remember curling up in my bunk one night with an Enid Blyton book and the gas mantle above my bed on at full. The wind was howling as it is this night. The rain was lashing the sides of the caravan and was drumming on the roof. Strangely enough, the sound of the rain was very comforting, adding to the (then) exciting feeling  and the cosy warmth of the tiny bunk bed and the intimacy of being a child on holiday in a confined space with immediate family.

I remember we had great fun that week, exploring the beach and the rocks and the caves. Paddling and maybe swimming in the cold sea. Going for long walks along the cliff tops and telling each other funny stories as we went. And then we would go back to our caravan and cook dinner on our camping stove, and at the end of each day, all of us wishing each other "goodnight, sleep tight!"

I really can't be sure if that was the precursors for the deja-vu which chose to visit me as I was turning out my light, but as the memories of old came flooding back and despite my snuffles and congested sinuses I went to sleep with a smile on my face.