In the beginning...

In a few months I’m celebrating one of those birthdays that end in a ‘zero’. I’ll be spending the weekend with a group of friends – three of whom are also celebrating their birthdays within a few days.

As well as a time for celebrating it’s also becoming a time for reflection. I was asked to copy some photos of me from childhood upwards. My parents have most of the photos so they spent some time sifting through their boxes and came up with a tidy pile. I’ve added to it and then scanned the lot so they can be copied to a CD.

Snapshots of the past are just that, capturing that moment. But it’s surprising how many memories are automatically attached – something no computer programme can generate.

Rather than tuck the images away I’ve decided to delve into them at random and use them as the inspiration behind the next few postings.

But for this first one, I’m starting at the beginning, my beginning.

I was born on a farm, delivered by my father. The midwife had reassured my parents that I wouldn’t arrive for hours – I had other ideas.

Perhaps that was an indication of what was to come – I have a fear of being late and will always leave far too early for an appointment. The reverse side of this is that I can’t abide anyone being late to meet me. A psychologist would confirm that I apply my values to the situation. If I can make the effort to be on time, why can’t everyone else?

When I was only a few months old my parents moved. Luckily they took both me and my sister Clare with them. Had we stayed in Buckinghamshire I would have attended the same school as Steve Redgrave and we would have been in the same year. It’s not much of a claim to fame but it’s all I can offer – don’t forget, I was only a baby.

Fortunately I can offer evidence in future blogs that I have met famous folk – keep reading, if you care?