To memoir or not to memoir; that is the question.

I'm thinking of writing my memoires. I remember as a child we were poor. We did not have air-conditioning or central heating at home. To keep warm we just sat in a circle and sucked extra strong mints. That's central heating. To cool-off we just sat on blocks of ice. We didn't have many luxuries either. As a child I used to be made to walk the plank every day. We didn't have a dog at the time.

We had a parrot in a cage. If you pulled his left leg he would hum the Offenbach Can Can music. If you pulled his right leg he sang "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas". If you pulled both legs together he would fall off his perch.

For a while we had two parrots. A male and a female. We could not tell them apart. So someone told my parents to creep up on them at night and check who was doing what to whom; and the one that was doing is the male.

So my dad checked on the birds at night and when he saw them enjoying themselves he put a white collar on the male so we could tell the birds apart.

A week later the vicar visited us. The male parrot said to him: "So they caught you at it too?"

Eventually one of the parrots died, so we ate him. He kept repeating on us!

I remember as a child my parents used to play hide and seek with me. I used to lean against a tree and count to 100 and they would hide. Then I had to find them in London ... Edinburgh ... Glasgow ... Cardiff ... Birmingham ... They spared no effort to hide from me and make the game real fun.

I used to come home from school and find that they had moved. The new owners of the house used to shoo me away. This happened several times. I did not know what it felt like being wanted until the day I saw my photo on a police notice board.

Anyway ... what is all this leading to, you may well ask.

Well, it's my way of introducing this video which I have just made. Hope you like it.