I remember being blown along the promenade at Southport on a tricicyle and then the wind blowing me off and grazing my knees and legs on the gritty floor.

I remember stopping the Police car outside my home in the pouring rain and seeing my daughters Teddy bear soaking in the rain on the back lawn.

I remember Nancy.  I was eight and she was nine.  For three wonderful days on holiday, I was in love.

I remember the first time we met and knowing as we held each other in a welcoming hug, that both of us knew it was right.

I remember Friday 6^th June 1958 and trying to hide my tears in a cupboard.

I remember the darkest richest most chocolaty hot chocolate in the Camera Cafe in the Old Town of Krakow.

I remember standing on Hudson Heights and looking across the river to the lights of New York in January.

I remember lying in my bed during the late summer and hearing the creaking of the bed in my parents bedroom.  My father was visiting my brother.  My mother had died several weeks before.

I remember standing in the door of the aircraft which opened in front of me at Athens airport and thinking that the blast of incoming hot air was from the jet engine.

I remember standing behind the main mast of a two masted schooner and watching the sails fill with wind, and though I was aware the boat was moving swiftly back towards East Falmouth, could feel no wind on my face.

I remember laughing out loud as the instructor in the passenger seat of the 420G Jaguar was lifted from his seat by the force of the 135mph slipstream.

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