'Now where did I leave that?'. It's happened to us all, hasn't it, the car keys you can't find in the morning when you need them. You search all the familiar haunts, not there, you go over old ground as the minutes tick away and the traffic piles up down Main Street. Then, you remember you went to the gym after you came home and changed, and sure enough, that's where the keys are, in the pocket of the jogging bottoms.

With a flourish, you twirl them around and head triumphantly out the door. There's no more uplifting feeling in the world.

Misplacing keys comes at the lesser end of memory loss. There's that awful moment when a husband comes in from work, one arm as long as the other, and it's their wedding anniversary or his wife's birthday. And, she knows as soon as they come in the door they've forgotten. But, like a cat playing a mouse, she's going to turn the knife.

"Where's my card?. No flowers?. Were the shops all closed today?'. The ferocity of the questions would pierce armour plating and, suddenly, the penny drops. No dinner that night, or much in the way of conversation either.

Acute memory loss, of course, has an established medical history and represents a harrowing time for the next of kin as they come to terms with the reality that the person they love doesn't recognise them any more. Patience, tolerance and understanding come into play big-time here.

And, yet, there's humour in all facets of life.

An old man is sitting crying his eyes out on a park bench. A kindly passer-by asks him if he has anybody belonging to him. 'Oh, I have', says the man between heartfelt sobs, 'I have a young wife and we make love every night. I couldn't be happier'.

'So, what are you crying about', the man asks. 'It's because', says the man, now sobbing uncontrollably, 'I can't remember where we live'.

But, back to memory lapses, what I'd call 'the umbrella syndrome' where, if it's raining, you instinctively take an umbrella with you and, then, when it's stopped, you walk out without it.

It's true, though, that men are far more forgetful than women, and mothers deserve a medal, don't they? They have to think for everyone else as well. Therein lies the key: they have to remember for, if they don't, no one else will.

So, the first rule to remember so as you don't forget is, listen. If there's nothing to remember going in, then there's nothing to remember going out. It's all to do with carelessness or laziness. My late father was a bit like the great Carthaginian general, Hannibal, 'first into battle and last to leave'. He'd come into us in the kitchen after us all working at the hay, with a face like thunder, not a trace of appreciation for all our hard work.

'Ye'z left everything behind yez. That's right, just throw it at yer arse'.

Translated, he was saying that we didn't take our rakes and pitchforks home with us, and it was left to him to tidy up. And, of course, he was right. You have to have care.

So, how is it that older people generally have poor recall and younger people don't? And, yet old people have some vivacious memories of their younger days.

Oh, by the way, never lend a book. The other person will swear on their father's grave they will return it within the week. Two, three, four weeks go by and, by then, the lender has forgotten who they lent the book to, and the other person feels too embarrassed to bring it back after all this time.

People used to suggest that older people have more on their minds, so things tend to be overlooked. Well, it's deeper than that. Psychologists now believe it's all to do with 'imprinting', putting into our memory box events when our brain processes were at their sharpest and, as we grow older, those processes aren't as active.

But, back to carelessness, there's simply no excuse to forget taking a note of where you've parked your car in a multi-storey car-park, or worse still, at a busy international airport. I've heard of people being driven around and around in the airport pick-up bus before they're reunited with their vehicle.

The fob ignition key is a useful option, but lose it and you could find yourself meeting your car on your way in.

I say we should all handbag up and keep a notepad and pen inside, preferably two pens in case you've lent the other to someone. Oh, by the way, never lend a book. The other person will swear on their father's grave they will return it within the week. Two, three, four weeks go by and, by then, the lender has forgotten who they lent the book to, and the other person feels too embarrassed to bring it back after all this time.

Is that carelessness, laziness, or memory loss. Be honest with yourself.