I did once dig a fishpond for Mum and Dad though, which is still going strong. I remember also digging another big hole in their garden, for some reason. I must have been in my late teens. Beyond our garden was some wasteland, and beyond that was the road to the local pub. I had gone out for a drink and was taking a short-cut home through the wasteland. It was pitch black and I completely forgot about the hole I had dug. I walked right into it.

I remember other times, when I was younger. If a friend had come round and we went out to the town centre, we would walk back and if it was springtime gather daffodils for Mum along the way. I don't know what the neighbours thought of the disappearing daffodils, but when you are drunk this sort of thing is very important. Mum would come down in the morning to find a couple of vases full of daffodils. She would of course tell us off, but she only did it half-heartedly, and she kept the flowers!

Mum's Dad was also very green-fingered, as was Dad's Mum. I remember Grandad told me all about the excellent qualities of Norfolk soil, and how they made his spring onions grow really big. He showed me them when I was visiting once.

I pointed them out to Mum when she came to pick me up, and she just laughed. Turns out Grandad was a bit of a wind-up. The spring onions were actually regular onions. They still grew bigger than any onion I have ever tried to grow though, so perhaps there was something in the soil after all?

There is a reason why I mention Grandad as well. When we heard Mum had died, we immediately flew back to the UK for a week. Staying at Dad's brought back a whole host of memories, and when we returned to Cyprus I had a vivid dream.