Herbert couldn’t remember names. Awful predicament at times. He’d be talking to someone who’d greeted him heartily and chatted about friends, family, holidays — and though he knew the face, he couldn’t put a name to it.
‘Listen,’ his wife said, when he told her about it, ‘what you need to do is connect something about the face to the name.’
He frowned, not knowing what she meant.
‘See here,’ she said, pulling a photo album out of the drawer. ‘Who’s this?’ She pointed to a black and white photo of a man in a tweed jacket.
‘That’s uh…wotsisname who used to have that fish stall on the market.’
‘Right,’ his wife said. ‘Fish. So imagine a salmon on a slab and think of his name — Simon.’
This seemed a great idea - and it just so happened that the very next day he encountered this old acquaintance outside ‘Marks and Spencers.’ Feeling confident, he strode across to meet him.
‘Hello, Haddock!’ he cried.