The Elephant Gene.

Back in the days when Britain was still a civilised country, I was a member of my office quiz team which took part in a knock-out competition organised by the local hospital radio. On one occasion the question was asked:

‘What were the names of the three men who were saved from the fiery furnace in the Book of Daniel?’

Buzzzz…

‘Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.’

‘Correct.’

After the broadcast was over (and we’d won) my colleagues asked me:

‘How the hell did you know that?’

‘I used to go to church when I was a kid.’

‘Oh, right.’

Mel occasionally asks me the same question.

‘How the hell do you know that?’

‘I learned it at school.’

‘But that was years ago.’

‘I know. I don’t seem to be able to forget things.’

Is it a blessing or a curse? I suppose it depends on what you want to remember, and what you’d prefer to forget. Oddly enough, though, I have a terrible memory for the names of real people. I count it a little eccentricity.