I remember Patrick Campbell's stutter, Frank Muir's bow tie and Robert Robinson's bell.

I remember subbing a CD review written by a national newspaper editor of an album by Benji Kirkpatrick in which the national newspaper editor referred to "the late John Kirkpatrick". Dead? Surely not. After a quick check on JK's website I pointed out that he was still touring and deleted "the late". And that national newspaper is doing away with subs!

I remember playing a card game with my nephews Oliver and Kit that they had made up called Golden Cap - because that's where they had invented it. If only I could remember the rules.

I remember the exhilaration we all (well, most of us) felt when Tony Blair trounced the Conservatives. I can sense the same excitement with Barack Obama and only hope that he doesn't let us all (and I do mean the whole world) down the way New Labour did.

I remember playing Pooh sticks with Margaret, Alice and Esme at a bridge over a brook in the New Forest. After all, it was only this week.

I remember playing A Rainy Night In Soho by The Pogues for Ren. Only because I was listening to it yesterday and suddenly realised I'd heard it before - at Ren's wake. I don't know if it's a false memory, but it figures that it meant a lot to him in view of the lyrics.