My little brother Mark was born in Lincoln in 1961 – that’s before we’d even heard of The Beatles. I can remember having to sit in the car outside St Giles Hospital while Dad went to visit Mum and the new baby. He was ages. It was dark. We got bored.

Forty seven years later I’ve forgotten to send Mark a card. I thought about it when I was on the train home from London last night – briefly. I mentally logged that I should buy a card. My memory was jogged this morning by his Facebook status. Sorry Mark – a Facebook Wall note, blog entry and quip about late cards don’t really make up for forgetting. But then it’s not the first time. My two sisters usually suffer the same fete. So while I remember Happy Birthday – past present and future – to all my siblings.