The thing about memory, or one of the things about memory, is how selective and unreliable it is. And so my Dearly Beloved, on reading my Last Post on the topic of Heritage Day, has seen fit to correct my meanderings.
The carousels of abandoned slides, she says, were found not by Eve but by Herself; not on the back stoep, but in the yard.
Detail, perhaps; but as I subscribe (by and large) to the truth, a detail I feel obligated to correct.
It’s worth it, if only to keep the peace 🙂