The choice of Marazion for one of my beaches from the past is intriguing. I have described my choices as places that have hooks in me, strong emotional attachments that have drawn me back to them. Yet I have only been back to Marazion once since those two holidays when I was a child. Perhaps those visits were the first times that I was able to hold a strong memory, a solid sense of “place”. In a way, however, I no longer have true memories from my childhood: they are more memories of memories. They are idealisations, romantic pictures of my childhood; they hold the first hints of love, of special, personal friends. Perhaps there were the first steps to individuation and a growing independence of self and thought.
When I revisited Marazion some years back I didn’t find it to be a particularly attractive or interesting place. The weather was pretty grey and dull which didn’t help. The section of beach where the camping coaches once stood was pretty featureless, and I doubt if it would have impressed itself on me had I come at it fresh on that adult visit. So in the case of Marazion at least I feel I can safely say that it holds importance for me purely because it was a place where something special happened and I have lodged it in my heart and mind rather than being a place that of itself imposed itself on me through its grandeur, beauty, geography, geology or whatever. It will be interesting to measure my reactions on my next visit.