I think it’s something to do with the human condition. We always tend to remember our parents as they were when we were young. When I think of my father, I always think of the robust mid-40’s man, and the same for my mother, as a 40-year old, when I was 7 or 8.

I say this because just the other day I was sitting here and writing something, I noticed the date and all of a sudden that little bell rang in my head, “it’s a birthday on monday!”. Yes, my father’s to be precise, he’s now 69. Unbelievable. How time marches on!

The other month we were talking about birthdays too, and how they come around so quickly, and here this one just crept up and smashed me on the head!