I remember buying Russell Hoban's The Mouse And His Child at WHSmith in Bognor at the start of a holiday and reading it that week. It's not that often I read novels that quickly. Puckoon by Spike Milligan and Keith Waterhouse’s Jubb are the only others I can think of off-hand. And of course this remebrance was kicked off by news of Hoban’s death this month. And I now remember where I put Jubb…

I remember that feeling of excitement when you 'catch' a magnetic fish.

I remember the loft apartment that Cagney lived in. You had to go up in a big industrial lift to get to it. And Lacey lived in Queens. She moved into a house in a nicer area during the show. I don’t remember if that was from Queens or to Queens.

I remember Grandad McCrae’s fascination with the transmigration of souls. And his RAF sunglasses.

I remember fighting back tears when Cinders went off with Prince Charming towards the end of this year’s Epsom pantomime. Poor Buttons. Such a beautifully judged performance by Andy Pelos. And such a beautiful Cinderella.

I remember, while I was using a parking meter recently in a side street in Wimbledon Village after dark, lighting it up with the flashlight app on my iPhone so I could see what I was doing, I overheard a young boy say to his schoolfriend, “My dad never gets any apps!”

I remember Tony ‘Chunky’ Smith and his lovely wife Anthea.

I remember discussing the latest Muppet Show with Richard in a pub in the Walworth Road.

I remember when it seemed to take ages to get from one year to the next. Another ellipsis I think…

I remember buying Keith Waterhouse’s Jubb on Amazon. I thought it would be a lot easier than finding my original copy, but I can’t remember where I put it.

I remember Ezra Pound's poem about a shopgirl. About being blown away by such a girl. I knew exactly what he meant.

I remember the Gadget Shop.

I remember when all butchers seemed to have at least two fingers missing.

I remember It’s Not Unusual missing from the Tubes’ live recording of the Hammersmith concerts, which I thought was a shame as I had really enjoyed Fee Waybill’s interpretation of this minor classic. I presumed it was a licensing problem. I never did get round to buying the album on CD, so I was delighted when I found on Nathan’s Classic Rock Moat a bootleg recording of the Boston concert on the same tour which has loads of the Tubes’ theatricality still intact, some great guitar and synth sounds, and of course the slightly wonderful It’s Not Unusual.

I remember becoming quite adept at changing the elastic bands that used to drive the mechanism in my first Panasonic video recorder.

I remember the smell of the late Ben Lyon’s after shave. Perhaps not its actual smell, but that it smelled.

I remember Eliot doing me a shot from inside the fridge on FaceTime.

I remember Ray Krebbs. He was a character in Dallas. He was a good guy, of which there were not many.

I remember thinking Malcolm Le Maistre didn’t quite fit into the whole Incredible String Band thing.

I remember seeing a lizard in Cornwall this year, in the dunes below Brea Hill. A young guy had caught it and was as amazed as I to find one there. You used to find loads when I was younger, but I thought they had all died out (especially compared with how many you find on the continent) although I did see some on Golden Cap a year or two ago.

I remember trying to update iTunes. And my iPhone to iOS 5! Nightmare!?! Good grief. But I think other people might have had it worse. My favourite is the upgrade causing the place names on Google maps to be in Chinese.

I remember Bert Jansch, Steve Jobs and Sir Jimmy Savile.

I remember trying to buy Eliot a tortoise. We wanted to get him a pet and knew that a cat or dog was out of the question with his asthma. So a tortoise seemed ideal. Which is when I found that you’re not allowed to buy or sell tortoises any more. They used to be all over the place when I was little. And while I agree that it’s not right to pack them into crates and ship them around the world, which I believe is why the trade was banned, I see no good reason why I should not be allowed to buy one that has been properly cared for so far, and continue to care for it properly.

I remember when if you wanted to weigh yourself you went to a machine on a railway station or in a shop such as Woolworths. Woolworths weighing machines had great big dials on. It cost a penny to weigh yourself. That’s 1d, not 1p.

I remember buying a light meter in a second-hand camera shop near Par Sands.

I remember squirrel boy. Neither a real-life Mowgli nor a cartoon character, it’s what I used to call Eliot when he would stand in Richmond Park and coax squirrels to climb up his leg for a peanut.

I remember JJ in assembly saying you should always have the right money with you for the bus. Also talking about a boy who had died while running for a bus, saying he was the sort of boy 'who ran for the bus'. Like it was a good thing.

I remember being told by Butch Key that we were 'standing on the touchline of life'. Like it was a bad thing.

I remember Mrs Newsome, my primary school head teacher, denouncing scrumping for apples - which someone had been stupid enough to do in school uniform.

I remember my cornet teacher. His name was Mr Meek. I think his first name was Eric. He had a very good embouchure. But he also had a moustache, which I used to think would get in the way of his trumpet playing.

I remember a history lesson in which Colin Prince talked about an auto-da-fe. I still don't know what it means.

I remember the Swiss army knife I got as a freebie from some computer game company or other. Eliot cut himself with it the first time he picked it up. I don't think my dad was impressed – and not just because it was his carpet Eliot was bleeding on.

I remember picking up a songbook in a charity shop, along the lines of Little Boxes and Other Songs by the person who wrote Little Boxes, whose name escapes me. We were visiting Wendy (my mother-in-law at the time – I’m not sure if she’s still my mother-in-law, presumably not) in Southend. We also met some RNLI crew members in the pub.

I remember bumping into Lee Remick in a shop in Chichester. Or rather gawping in awe as she looked at a stand of greeting cards.

I remember fruit-flavoured Polos.

I remember a friend telling me he had spent two hours that morning in bed listening to his parents bickering. Which had confirmed his need to move to Australia almost immediately. And now he’s gone.

I remember Auntie Betty (not really and aunt – a family friend) saying a cat had jumped over her pram when she was a child, by way of an explanation for her fear of cats.

I remember folding tabs on stage, invariably with at least one other person.

I remember putting away the awning very carefully each time so that it stayed in pristine condition. Initially with another person but eventually on my own. But I still took it very seriously.

I remember being rescued from an upturned dinghy a few hundred yards off the south coast.

I remember recording the Tiffin King Lear cast in a performance of the play at Beaconsfield. The cast included the daughters of Paul Daneman and Dorothy Tutin. We made them run around the grounds in the pouring rain to record the chase scene. And mixed it years and years later.

I remember St Osyth, the Sussex Club and Elmer Sands, and like to think I have carried on the tradition by sticking largely to Golden Cap and Chapel Amble.

I remember VJ 8055, Margorikki and the VW campervan.
I remember eating at the Key Cafe in Wimbledon, a place by Kingston bridge near a shop that sold latex, or on special occasions the Pot in Earls Court. On one very special occasion at a restaurant in Kensington Church Road. 

I remember on one birthday singing Bob Dylan’s Forever Young for you in the garden. 

I remember doing this all before. Happy 85th birthday, Dad!