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The Madeleine moment.


You know the concept. In Marcel Proust’s Du cote de chez Swann the narrator dips a madeleine into a cup of tea. This simple act unlocks a host of memories of childhood, he hasn’t done this in years, it takes him right back.

I’m not going to pretend I’ve read the book. I will confess I tried, but wandered off after a while to play computer games instead. This is because I’m an intellectual pygmy with the attention span of a stunned duckling. But the point, largely, is that Proust has managed to sneak a phrase into the popular consciousness which is apposite and precise; we all know what a Madeleine moment is, and a crisp fiver here states that we’ve all had one.
One occurred this morning (hence the post, there’s not a great deal of forethought with these things on my part). For years beyond remembering I have been accustomed to opening he fridge to see milk in plastic one or two litre containers, it’s not something I’ve ever given a great deal of consideration to. Why would you?

Yet this morning the milkman delivered our milk in glass pint bottles, replete with the red and silver foil tops. Suddenly and in a rush I recalled childhood. There was a brief moment of giddiness as, it all coming back to me now, I pushed the foil cap down with my thumb (not lost it). I’ve no idea why they did this, but I’m profoundly grateful that they did.

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