Rose-Tinted Glasses

Thanks to my new book, "Cod Psychology for People Who like Facile Explanations", I've now got the technical term for one of the mysteries of modern religious science.

We church fellowship leaders have always wondered about people like Old Mavis, the woman who constantly tells me that Archdruid 'Erbert at the Broch-building Folk of Bedford was a treasure who loved his  flock, worked 23 hours a day, never took a day off, and preached stunning, up-to-the-minute sermons. And knocked up self-help books in his spare time, which meant he never had to draw any wages. Likewise, during her time at the Pre-Pentecostal Fellowship of Pulloxhill, the congregation there was slain in the spirit every week and yet, while constantly falling over, never broke a bone. Except those that were miraculously healed shortly afterwards. And the music group she once led never, ever, had musical differences that resulted in pained silences, awkward break-ups, power-struggles or hand-to-hand combat with mic stands and twelve-string acoustics.

Yep, it turns out that she has a special form of selective recall that makes the past look much, much rosier than it ever really was. It's called a Photogenic Memory.