These are stored somewhere in my inbuilt memory, none exist as photos, they are sometimes life moments that you would expect to remember, like the birth of our son, being held up with his eyes open and looking all around him with no sound, and the moment we sorted out a problem with feed for our baby daughter and she was able to keep her food down. She looked like a very contented Buddha.

Other moments were less life moments, just visual incidents that you might not expect to recall. Like the time I was driving out of Gloucester and a group of young women who were going on a night out. One expressed herself by doing a couple of dance moves on the London Road, blonde hair flying. It was faultless and memorable for some unknown reason.

I’ve never been that keen on men morris dancing, generally these blokes are lumbering and bit too old to be weilding sticks together. I recall a group of female dancers up in Yorkshire and like the girl on the London road they left a vivid image on me. It’s in the bank and it was 30 years ago.

Driving into Gloucester with daughter once we were behind a male cyclist who was having trouble in the ‘southern region’ and the manner of his readjustment had us both reeling with laughter. We sort of knew his pain.

A horse farting? Why would I remember that. Simply put it was at one of the only horse shows I’ve ever been to, I was quite young and it was part of the Southport Flower Show, our parents took me and my brother to the show and thought we might like to see the horses. After we’d taken our seats on a rudimentary bench that made an entire row of seated people we watched as a horse and rider approached turned its back to us to have a go at he next fence, farted loudly, and sailed over. At first the row of people said nothing then a northern voice said ‘ clear round’ and there was a growing tsunami of giggling and laughter with the shared seats shaking. Made our day. If I want to cheer myself up I can still see the scene.

Haircut Sir? Something for the weekend. I was in the waiting room at a barber’s shop in Ashton in Makerfield waiting for a haircut from a local chap who was a bit of an entrepreneur. He drove an E type jag, so he was doing something right. As he worked on an older gentleman’s tonsorial needs a yoof came in and sauntered nervously up to him. Whispering in the barbers ear, who then in a rather stentorian reply said simply: ‘Sorry mate, we don’t sell them in ones” someone was in for a disappointing weekend and others might need this explaining to them. The drawing is inspired by another tonsorial artist, not the playboy one I generally used

The moment I walked up to what was to become my home and office in Shepherds Bush stays with me. A top floor flat it was in reality just the top floor of a large London house in pretty poor condition. No separate front door. It was to say the least ‘gone at the edges’ but I was more than excited about the prospect and finding a gas fridge in full working order just added to the excitement plus the geyser in the bathroom. Not a sitting tenant, just a huge gas water heater that sort of blew up when ignited. The whole thing was a portent of exciting times for me.

Chocolate in a baguette and the Beatles first record in Paris. Lawrence of Arabia. I can see it now, a cinema in Paris converted the entire front of the building into that huge image of the face of Lawrence of Arabia in Arab headgear and deep shadows. A stunning way to advertise the film and this was the early 1960s. I was on an exchange staying with a French family, the mother sent us kids out onto the streets of Paris to explore with a baguette and a bar of dark chocolate. It was in their apartment there that I first heard the Beatles first single ‘Love me do’ coming over the radio, and it was like an electric moment, lives with me as a moment rather than an image.

Late night or early morning? So why did you stop us then?Manchester in the 1960s. Two engagements with the law. The first one a dawn morning when trudging home from a party without a bus fare but carrying the start of a big hangover. As I walked a car ‘walked’ almost silently with me, the window wound down and a policeman looked at me and spoke: “Late night or early morning?” He said. “Late night” I croaked, the window wound shut and they accelerated gently away. It’s the only thing I remember about the party night.

It was a Honda 50. A scooter with a long seat, so you could get 2 people on it, just. I was a learner driver for ‘motorbikes’ but had a full car licence. The L plate on the back of the bike was wrapped around the back of the seat, glued. Jim asked if I could give him a lift home. We lived in the same house near Whaley Range Grammar School, so it would have been churlish to say ‘No’ and he reassured me that he in fact did have a full motorbike licence.

Now I was a bit of a chubster, Jim was not, but he was a tall regular built chap. This was a small bike, it struggled but we managed, chugging along through Moss Side, when a police patrol car stopped us and asked us what we were doing, as if it wasn’t obvious. The officer looked like he’d come off the set of a Benny Hill Movie and spoke in measured cliches quoting bits of his police homework in a slow monotone. His main objection was that I was a learner and that I should not be carrying a passenger.

Jim got out his motorbike licence and insisted that he was giving me a lesson. Sighing to himself, Officer Dibble then said as an aside…’and I could not see your L plate from the rear’….brief pause…Jim responded: ‘ so why did you stop us then?’ Longer pause. Dibble responded with a general ‘ We’ll ave less of your mouth’. Silence as his pencil went over the page, Book closed. Be on your way, he said as he climbed back into his Z car. Defeated by his own intelligence.

There are more such events of course, some clearer than others and some not what you like to recall, but the ones here bring a smile to me, and hopefully to you.