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Tim Dowling: Why are my friends erasing me from their holiday memories?

I try to think of another detail from the weekend that will convince them of my presence, but absolutely nothing comes to mindAfter a sometimes fraught four-hour car journey, my wife and I and three friends arrive at a remote, sea-facing house in Greece. I’ve been here once before, a couple of years ago, but my memory of the place is fragmentary. I’ve remembered, for example, that you can’t get the car anywhere near the house – you have to lug your stuff across a beach and over some rocks – and have packed accordingly. But the view from the top of the rocks still comes as a disheartening surprise.“I forgot about the second beach,” I say, looking at the house in the distance. Continue reading...


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