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…