I was Born at a Very Young Age

For many people, memory is often triggered by a sound or a smell. For me, the very earliest one is of sitting in my pram and being aware of a tantalising aroma, wishing I could have some of whatever it was, but unable to communicate the fact because I was too young to talk. I have amazingly good recall, but as I’ve got older, little bunches of memories are slowly being snuffed out like candles, so I decided to write a few anecdotes down before what passes for my brain, packs it in altogether and I become a cabbage. My story started off small, just like me, and grew over the years...just like me!
I wouldn’t say that being able to remember a conversation that happened 50 years ago, word for word, is an advantageous thing because I also remember, in vivid detail, most of the times I’ve made complete and utter fool of myself, which I’m sad to say, add up to more than a few. I wish I really could forget about them, but sadly, I just have to live with the affliction and remind myself that everyone else has probably forgotten about whatever it was that happened at the time, so why worry?
I’m no saint and I regret that I’ve hurt people in my life, not least of all myself by being a complete idiot at times, but I like to think I’ve learned something, even if it was the hard way. It’s been a rough ride but I have had some fun. I’m no Ernest Hemmingway or Stephen King, just an ordinary guy with a good memory and this is, as far as I am concerned, a true account of my life from my earliest years, until 1991 when I left the UK. Part 2 will follow...one day. Bob Francis.