One weird trick to remembering literally anything

Except people's names at parties

(Creative Commons)

I’m so old that I belong to the generation where anyone could still pick you up from primary school. Today, forms must be docusigned, express permission from the parents given. This is — to be clear — a good thing. But back in the prelapsarian 1990s, it was something of a free-for-all.

Conversely, the teaching itself was far more prescriptive. There was definitely a right way and a wrong way to consume and retain information. This suited those who picked things up first time, or for whom the style of teaching matched their way of learning. For the rest, you simply had to find ways to keep up.

This often lent itself to ever more absurd revision techniques — a mix of highlighter pens, cue cards, studying in short bursts, or just before and after sleep, the liberal use of past papers. For certain subjects, there were no shortcuts, but tedious rote repetition. It worked, but at some cost to ones mortal soul.

Caecilius est in horto

For that reason and to this day, I refuse to allow my brain to forget how to decline Latin nouns. This almost certainly comes at the expense of acquiring more useful information, for example remembering the name of anyone I meet. Nor does it even tell me whether that ‘a’ ending is first declension singular feminine nominative (puella) or second declension plural neuter accusative (templa). Sorry — that was just a flex.

While stubbornness has helped me cling to Latin, it turns out there really is a simple trick to remembering more mundane things: take yourself somewhere new. Music provides a vivid illustration. Each time you hear a new song in a new place, it carves that moment, perhaps even a specific tree, in your DNA. Though be warned — this works for painful memories too.

For example, and some of these will be embarrassing for both reader and writer: