I was recently given a fascinating book, Wednesday is Indigo Blue, into which I dip when I have a curious moment (it's not the kind of book I read all at once - not these days anyway). It's about synaesthesia, a phenomenon that I've been fascinated with ever since I argued with my mother over the colour of Wednesday, which she indeed thought was blue while I always saw a greenish colour (with black swirls, to be exact). I thought everyone was the same, only - clearly - with different colours until my sister, when we were much older, told me she'd felt she was peculiar because it didn't work for her.
A couple of years ago, I took a pretty exhaustive online test for synaesthesia and discovered that despite my awareness of colours for days of the week, names, letters and so on, my strongest synaesthetic area was in fact in music, linking colours to the sound of different instruments. I've tried to put a few of the images together in my Blip, mainly because this is another of these dreary dark days and I've been busy but not in a photo-generating way. It seems to be something to do with contiguous parts of the brain sort of leaking into each other, if I get it correctly - so more a genetic fault than a gift!
I have a synaesthetic friend - discovered her in the middle of a choir practice! - but have yet to be convinced that any of my grandchildren have it. It's much less common in men, but I never even thought of asking my sons anyway - as I say, it just lurked in the background of my life for decades.
Today, by the way, is grey. It would be grey even if the sun was splitting a blue sky. Monday is grey.