I recently visited my father for a few days.
That doesn’t mean I revisited a childhood house, or even town: neither he nor I has done that for many years. But one thing somehow took me back: hearing the cooing of pigeons outside. That’s not even a very nice sound: it can be quite infuriating when it goes on incessantly, and I have some recollections of them being an annoying pest. Yet that sound gave me a faintly Proustian nostalgia. Followed of course by the realisation that there aren’t any around here, and faintly wondering why not: it can’t be just the neighbourhood cats!
During my visit I went to an event in London, and stayed on for a concert in the evening. It was the RPO, at the Royal Festival Hall. I got a great seat, and thoroughly enjoyed it. But a little more than that: the orchestral sound was somehow ultimately “right”: the canonical orchestral sound. What I was actually hearing (apart from a fine orchestra playing great music) was the Festival Hall’s acoustic, and I think that “rightness” must’ve been because that’s where I first ever heard an orchestra when my parents took me to see The Nutcracker there as a small child!