I remember Larry George, our old Chemistry master. Saw him at Polesden Lacey a year or two ago. He always said hello whenever I bumped into him way back, and I wish I’d said hello then, because I’ve just found out that he died recently.

I remember Michael Bentine’s ‘flea circus’. I found it fascinating. It was only recently, thanks to a BBC Radio 4 documentary, that I discovered it was constructed by Bruce Lacey.

I remember thinking Stephen Belafonte (aka Mr Scary Spice) was the son of Harry Belafonte and also thinking when all the domestic abuse stories came out how disappointing it must have been for the Sixties peace and love icon to have created such a hell-hound. Imagine my surprise when Margaret told me it was a bit of an urban myth. He had changed his name to Belafonte (presumably to get a leg up in showbiz). Hurrah! (Must do a bit of fact-checking there, in case HB has merely disowned SB.)

I remember ladies only compartments in trains. I remember compartments in trains.

I remember a story in the papers about a vicar who had told children that Father Christmas didn't exist but then apologised when their parents complained. I also remember feeling that they had missed the point. Surely the parents - or maybe even the press - should have pointed out that God doesn’t exist, not in the way the reverend believes it. God and Santa are surely constructs that help us get through life. If we do good, then good will come to us. If we are naughty, we won't get any toys. It’s all the same thing. We get to 11 and stop believing in Father Christmas. The we get to 21 and stop believing in God. All we have left is hope, hope that Father Christmas and God exist. But being good and doing good are still the better option, even if they don’t.