I remember a woman from my childhood who used to wipe her dogs’ bums after they’d had a poo. 

She had 2 of them – one Westie (white) and one Scottie (black).  I’ve seen so many people with this mix of dogs, I’m starting to think you have to buy them together, like salt and pepper shakers.

I have a terrible memory so I don’t know why I remember this woman in particular.  She was Irish (I think), and used to come to our house to use the phone, then leave 10p on the hall table to pay for the call.  She also babysat us for a while.  She reminds me of a character called ‘Dot Cotton’ from a depressing soap called “Eastenders”, but I can’t remember why.  Thats about all I remember of her.

I don’t know why my memory is so bad.  I did get hit on the head with a cricket bat once – that might explain it.  

The weird thing is that during the period of my life this woman was a part of, I knew other people better – I spent more time with others and yet now, I can’t remember one of their names.  I remember hers.  Maybe it was the level of care and attention she lavished on those dogs that made her stand out – or maybe it was the bum wiping, I really don’t know.

What I do know is that as I get older; as my leaf detaches from the deciduous tree of life and floats to the ground (feels like its hurtling some days), I find myself wondering what it is that makes a memory.

All those special moments you think you’ll remember forever – how many get lost in the traffic of life?

All my efforts over the last 12 years to make happy childhood memories for our son; how many will last to adulthood?  

I know one that will – the allotment.

For me, a place to create, be at peace and feel a connection to living things that only comes with a stillness gardening can bring.

For our son – hell on earth. A place of boredom and ‘jobs’ that keep him away from computer games.  How can I help him see or feel what I do with my hands in the dirt, with our robin singing to me, with seeds bursting through the soil with shouts of, “you shall eat fresh this summer”?

I truly don’t know.

But I won’t give up. 

I remember when I wasn’t that much “into gardening” – I think.