Free How to Develop a Perfect Memory by Dominic O'Brien Page A

round it, looking distinctly menacing. I think I'll concede the hole.
    6. T-junction left: into Braintree Road
    At the next tee, it's another hook, I am afraid. The ball skews off to the left of the fairway by a tree — a very thoughtful tree, as it happens. Looking up, I am amazed to see a large brain wedged between two of its branches. The Tree of Knowledge, no less. This will make a fine story back at the clubhouse
    (zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...)
    7. Straight on for four miles
    At last! My game is coming together. I hit the ball straight down the middle of the fairway with my four iron. (Once again, I could also incorporate a numbers-shape, in this case a yacht, to remember four miles.)
    8. Second set of traffic lights: turn right
    My next shot lands in the rough on the right. Ahead of me, I imagine a large traffic light, rising out of a inconveniently positioned lake. A swan is swimming round the pole, as if protecting it. A swan is the number-shape for 2.
    9. First exit off roundabout into Warren Way
    My green play is improving: I single putt the next shot. But it's not only the length of the putt that is impressive. The green is crowded with rabbits from a nearby warren. Alternatively, I imagine that the flag has turned into a telegraph pole (the number-shape for 1) to remind me that it's the first exit. Not surprisingly, I prefer to putt at roundabouts when it's the first exit.
    10. Sixth house on the left: Blacksmith Cottage
    Finally, I hit a six iron off to the left of the next fairway, and watch, in disbe-lief, as it lands in the furnace of a blacksmith who has set up shop on the course. Alternatively, I picture an elephant (number-shape for 6) being fitted with a shoe by a blacksmith.
    They may be surreal, crazy images, but I bet I arrive at the supper engagement before you do.
    10
    LEARNING THE
    TWENTIETH
    CENTURY CALENDAR
    Sunday's child is bonny, good, blithe and gay
    Monday's child is fair of face
    Tuesday's child is full of grace
    Wednesday's child is full of woe
    Thursday's child has far to go
    Friday's child is loving and giving
    Saturday's child works hard for a living
    On the 11 September 1978, a Bulgarian playwright named Georgie Markov
    was queuing at a bus stop on the Embankment in London. He was on his way to Bush House on the Strand, where he worked as a translator for the BBC's World Service. Shortly before his bus arrived, he felt a sharp jab in the back of his leg. Witnesses said they saw a man walking off in a hurry, carrying an umbrella. Four days later, Markov was dead. The police suspected poisoning.
    I was recently reminded of this notorious assassination by a magazine
    article on the Bulgarian secret police. As I read it, I tried to picture the scene: why was he poisoned at a bus stop? Was there anything relevant about the date? I knew in an instant that Markov was stabbed on a Monday. It was a small point, but it helped to set the scene for me. He was a normal commuter, going to work like the rest of us. But what a tragic start to the week!
    I knew it was a Monday because I have 'learnt' the twentieth-century calendar. I could similarly tell you in an instant what day of the week it was on 19
    August 1905 (Saturday), or 22 December 1948 (Wednesday); and I know what day it will be on 1 January 1998 (Thursday).
    It's an extremely useful skill to acquire, one that I personally use all the time. It's also a very entertaining party trick. As part of my stage show, I ask someone to tell me their date of birth; before they've had time to say, 'It's a con!', I have told them which day of the week they were born on, and which famous people they share their birthdays with. Surprisingly, there is very little to learn; you have already done most of the work in previous chapters.
    THE PARTY
    Imagine that today is your birthday. As a present, a friend has organized a surprise party for you. You come home from work to find that your house has been taken over by 100 guests, a mixture of friends, relatives, and famous