One Fort in the Grave - with KEITH FORT

SHOULD auld acquaintance be . . . um . . . er . . . It all used to seem so amusing -- all those jokes about people losing their memory. I'll never forget what's his name . . .

Then, suddenly, you get past 65 and it's not funny any more. It's rather annoying and embarrassing, actually.

Especially if you once enjoyed the privilege of a memory you could be proud of.

Sometimes, in older age, you find it hard to believe the things you have done -- or have forgotten to do.

There was a time when I could think of a dozen things I'd need to remember sometime in the future. I never needed to tie knots in string or hankies, just in my brain, and out they'd pop right on schedule some time later. I never missed anything. My brain was so reliable.

Now I have to make lists. Things like: "Go to the bank. Service the car. Mend the lawnmower. Plant hanging basket. Have a bath."

My wife complains there are lists all over the house. There are even lists about lists! Some are five years old and contain reminders which still haven't been carried out! (Having a bath isn't one of them, you'll be relieved to know.)

Don't get me wrong. I'm not suffering from senile dementia (I'll make a note to check on that).

But it's something that starts to happen with advancing years, to not a few of us, I have learned. The old grey cells just seem to develop gaps.

It can be very embarrassing. Names are the worst for me. For instance, I used to be able to rhyme off the names of obscure places I have visited in the world -- places like Laem Chabang (Thailand), Con Dao (a Vietnamese island), Denpasar (Indonesia), Gdynia (Poland), Cartagena (Colombia), Mankinholes (Yorkshire) and even Quaroqoq (Greenland). Now I have to look them up.

People can present the biggest problems. Friends you've known all your life who greet you with: "Hello! You haven't changed a bit."

Then you reach for their name and it's not there, and you know you have, quite a bit, somewhere inside.

Even worse is when you're accompanied by people you can't introduce your mystery friend to because you can't remember his blessed name. In your mind you can see faces of well-known actors and movie stars but you can't fit names to them all any more.

So quiz programmes are out for me. I don't need Anne Robinson telling me: "You are the weakest link" because I know I am before I get there. But I'm not ready yet to say: "Goodbye."

Then there are incidents that you don't even own up to. Misplacing my glasses is one of the worst.

Some time ago I had to top up the coolant in my car radiator, Job done, I jumped into the driving seat and prepared to zoom off only to realise that I'd parked my glasses on top of the engine and slammed the bonnet down on them! That cost me a new pair, rimless with thin frames.

If you can't see without them just try finding those darned things! My biggest nightmare is sitting on them (which I have, twice).

It gets worse than that. The other night I started to watch the telly and quickly realised I hadn't got my glasses on. Must have left them upstairs.

During natural break I drifted upstairs, looked around, couldn't for the life in me remember why I'd gone up there. Went back down again and as soon as I looked at the screen, I remembered.

Returned upstairs and carried out this hilarious half-blind fingertip search of the bed, windowsills, every flat surface -- all to no avail. They were eventually found three feet from where I was sitting.

Yes, I have to face it, I'm getting more forgetful all the time.

Now -- what was it I was writing about?