I remember Nancy Kulp, the straight woman in the Beverly Hillbillies. She was the banker’s assistant or something like that. I can still see her in my mind’s eye, and hear her plummy voice. I liked her.

I remember the rubbery tops of glue bottles.

I remember what Aunt Rosemary said about how you only get to borrow your children, you never actually own them. Then they go off to America or Australia (I added that bit).

I remember the frogs we found mating in a corner of our patio at the weekend. They weren't being ostentatious or anything, hiding under a bird table and keeping quite still - but I knew what they were doing! They had disappeared by the next morning, so hadn't taken up residence in the new home Margaret had fashioned for them nearby out of an old earthenware trough, some leaves and moss. But what do I find yesterday morning in a puddle of water on the manhole cover in the middle of the patio? A heap of frog spawn. This is where the stupid bit comes in. I know the crocuses are out, but we haven't had winter yet. Don't they read the weather forecast? Frost coming in this weekend!?! Plus the horrible bit. The pigeons were starting to show interest. Needless to say, Marg went straight on the iPad and made a phone call – not worried a bit about them thinking she was mad - and we now have a bowl of frogspawn on the breakfast table in the conservatory. My babies!