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"People's memories are limitless. Everything indicates that. Everybody is born with a good memory, then most people are trained how to use it badly."
Age is no excuse either, he says. "The idea of memory declining with age is ridiculous. My memory gets better with every year of my life. So do the scores of competitors."
The key, he says, is recognising that "the whole history of Western thought, suggesting we think grammatically, in logical lists, is seriously suspect."
With that easy hurdle jumped, Mr Buzan explains, I can start remembering people's names, or why I am in a flat in Derby. I can accept that the true language of the brain is based not on words, but pictures. Devise a code that allows you to link such things as numbers, cards, dates or names to memorable images and you are getting there.
For some reason, though, Mr Buzan decides to start slowly. To remember my own name, he advises helpfully, "Picture an Adam in the Garden of Eden, accompanied by Eve, who is luscious. For Lusher."
I get that one perfectly, even without Mr Buzan's helpful reminder: "The first reason why people forget, is that they haven't paid attention in the first place." |
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Back in Derby, I think I am ready for the advanced course. With Mr Pridmore, the absent-minded memory man. Despite first impressions, Mr Pridmore broke the equivalent of the four-minute mile of memory athletics, obliterating the "30-second barrier" by memorising a shuffled pack of cards in 26.28 seconds.
He even remembers where he did it: "On July 14, at the British championships, in Highley, Shropshire. That was a real thrill. There were about half-a-dozen people watching, maybe even 10."
When seriously pressed, he will also admit to having an IQ of 159, reluctantly confessing that others consider him a genius, "or something like that". He insists that "pretty much everyone has the capacity to remember everything that has ever happened to them. But why would any sane person want to do that?" he asks, perhaps anticipating some obvious questions.
"Yes, I have a toned hippocampus, for anything pointless, like cards or long numbers. I like mental games, puzzles. With useful things, like names, I prefer the ice-breaker at parties: 'I won the World Memory Championship in 2004, but I can't remember the first thing about you.' "
It seems we will be training our memory in the company of a pack of cards, not at a party. Mr Pridmore introduces me to the all-conquering "Ben System". It allows him to file any pair of cards, or set of three digits, in his memory as an image.
He then recalls the cards or numbers - "like a magician pulling a string of handkerchiefs out of a hat" - by placing the mental images at strategic stops along an imaginary journey
"So for every possible combination of cards," explains Mr Pridmore, "you just need 2,704 mental images pre-programmed into your head." He pauses, and looks into my eyes.
Perhaps we will try the "Simple Ben" system, instead. This gives an image to every individual card, rather than every pair, so you need only 52 mental images in your long-term memory.
I think it goes rather well. I am flawless recalling my Dad (the Ace of diamonds) with Sid James (the three of spades) and a demon (the seven of diamonds) invading my bedroom. I just about make it to my front door, although I do forget there was a cod (the four of clubs) pinned to it.
And given what I have just seen, is it any wonder that, by the time I step into the street, I am a little confused?
I have no idea why the Khyber Pass has relocated to London (because it is supposed to be the eight of clubs), and get a bit mixed up about whether Hiawatha (the eight of hearts) is being pursued through it by Darth Vader or Mr Darcy (although they both amount to the same thing: the king of diamonds).
"Not bad at all," says Mr Pridmore, "for a beginner. Don't worry, I'll take my time." Where I take minutes to memorise five out of nine cards, Mr Pridmore memorises the whole pack in 43 seconds. He pauses only to wonder what Mao Tse-tung is doing in his living room. His smile, though, is short-lived. "Where did I put the box for the cards?" He starts rummaging again. "I know I am better than ever," he says. "On an average evening, I'll memorise three packs of cards. And a 400-digit number. I am getting better every time. ah, there it is."
The Germans may have their trophies and their smart squad shirts. Mr Pridmore has his cards box again, and his lucky T-shirt, vintage circa 1998 ("why buy a new shirt just because the old one has a few holes?").
He has a "famous hat", but not The Famous Hat. "I forgot to take it off the train coming back from last year's World Memory Championships," he explains.
He can't fail. and I, meanwhile, have new memories to inspire me. Surely, I too could be a contender?
I shall leave this flat and go into the world a changed man. All I have to do is remember those 2,704 mental images. And where I parked my car. |
