Last week I was on holiday in Val d'Isere with friends. I was last there about 10 years ago but used to go quite a lot.

We went to Blue Note, one of my favourite bars, to watch the England v France Six Nations rugby match. (About which I shall say nothing.)

I was keen to go to Blue Note because I remember talking to the owners when they first set it up in 2006. They were brother and sister, full of enthusiasm for their new venture. They'd taken risks. I also had a good chat with their equally excited parents who were visiting. I was impressed.

Over the years I've related the story of the bar a few times. Especially about its main feature: a specially manufactured bar top. I told of how it was made from a single piece of cast resin and how it had dozens of blue bank notes from around the world set into it.

I turned up at the bar for the match and found that the bar top had been replaced. I was disappointed and asked if the original owners had gone too. They hadn't. Matt, one of the pair, served me a beer and we chatted. It was nice to talk to him again and catch up on the past ten years.

I asked about what happened to the old bar top. He tapped the bar and said, "No, it's the original".

Uh!?

I looked at it again and saw that it was resin - not as thick as I'd remembered; and that it had, set in it, record covers from blues and jazz records. Not blue banknotes.

Memories flooded back. I did remember the record covers. And their connection with the name of the bar.

Doh. I'd recast the facts to suit the story. And fooled myself.

(Nowadays I struggle to summon everyday nouns and generally refer to the dishwasher as a washing machine. But this is not the same thing.)

I don’t think it’s just me. The truths we hold are not as reliable as we think. And sometimes this can matter more than small beer.

What do you know?