WHAT are your earliest memories? I think one of mine is falling out of bed, and another being chased by a bull (or rather being carried by my mother while she was being chased by a bull!). We tend to remember events that are out of the ordinary or things which have aroused emotion, either negative or positive.

So exciting and fun times often stick in our mind more than the mundane routine things we do every day. I suppose it’s obvious why we couldn’t possibly recall every walk to school we ever did as a child, but will remember the times something unusual happened. That’s why we always remember what we were doing when a significant news event comes on the telly: it pegs our memory of that day.

One of my very early memories is of the taxi outing. I can still remember watching a taxi driver decorate his cab. We were living in Pilton at the time, this was before our family moved to East Lothian and I think I must have been around three or four years old. I can still see the taxi owner fixing a net onto his cab, then puffing as he blew up balloons which he stuffed under the net.

The taxi driver lived in our street and he was decorating the cab at the roadside by our garden, where I sat transfixed as I watched him transform a plain taxi into what looked like a magical carriage. He then decorated the cab with some kind of paint – yes, I was sure that what is was – and he painted a picture of the seaside on the side doors. I had no idea why he was doing this, or indeed at that time I don’t think I even understood what a taxi was. It was just a man decorating his car and it seemed like a great idea.

I can still remember the look of horror on the face of Kay, the lovely woman who looked after us, when she came out to see what I’d done to the old family car in the drive. There was an interesting trail of red paint from the shed where a wee boat my father was building was kept. I recall the pot of paint was heavier than I expected and as I had dragged it towards the car the lid helpfully came off, spilling some of its contents but making it easier to pull.

I think in those days children were more readily left to entertain themselves given that there were no computer, DVDs or even children’s telly on during the day. I cannot remember who else was in the house but what I do recall is the sense of joy and excitement at being able to copy the man who’d decorated his taxi and how pleased my parents would be at the result.

I could find no paint brush but I remember I improvised by using sticks and leaves from the garden and of course my hands. Soon the car was looking much more colourful than before, although I couldn’t quite get the effect the taxi driver had managed on his vehicle.

A further trip to the shed was very productive and I returned this time furnished with what I now know to be a kind of varnish that was quite expensive and again to be used on the boat. I recall it was very sticky, and it had a glistening effect, especially when I smeared it on the headlamps.

Kay’s worried face when I wandered into the kitchen with glistening red hands transformed into an expression of horror as I proudly showed her my artistic improvement of the old car. I remember her hand was brought to her mouth to cover the shriek.

It was in this moment I remember realising that something was wrong. She’d always given me so much praise and nurture whenever I’d shown her a picture. She was a member of my dad’s congregation and, what I know of her life now, she had huge challenges. She passed away many years ago but the memory of her care is a consistently positive one.

Despite her initial look of horror she quickly looked down at me and smiled, saying: “Oh dear.” I didn’t quite understand this, but when I explained I’d tried to make the car a magical carriage like the man across the street she understood. She explained to me why that man had decorated his taxi and that he was taking children to the seaside.

“Dad can take us to the seaside then!” I remember saying. We now had our own magical carriage!

It was Kay’s understanding and soft ways that I remember so vividly. She was possibly very worried about this having taken place when she was looking after us but I remember we both did our best to wash away the paint and she sang seaside songs as we did so.

What could so easily have been an unpleasant memory was transformed into a happy one. The varnish wasn’t possible to remove and I don’t remember the initial reaction of my parents, but for sure I didn’t get any row or punishment, although I did understand I was not to do it again.

And so when the taxi outing was coming through East Lothian this week it was a good opportunity to share an old memory with my youngest children. I think it is a wonderful that for 70 years taxi drivers have gone to so much effort to give families a day out at the seaside and to cheer them on is a simple way to make it an extra occasion.

I was unfortunately working but my wife took the kids to Prestonpans High Street where they cheered at the sight of the decorated cabs. Then our wee boy Lewis received a direct hit from a water gun from the occupants! He wasn’t expecting that and so thereafter he positioned himself carefully, making sure he wasn’t such an easy target. He loved the spectacle, though, and perhaps it’ll be an early memory for him, reinforced by the water attack!

I missed it but heard all about it afterwards, and yes, at the request of the kids we will have balloons on our car next time we go to the seaside! This yearly event reminds me of a few things.

Firstly that children are inquisitive and creative, and sometimes when they make a mess they are not being bad but just experimenting with their creativity. We need to remember that as adults, as Kay did.

But also it reminds me that so many people are good at heart, and in a world so seemingly full of bad news we all need to remind ourselves of this. The taxi outing will always conjure up memories of that taxi driver taking so much time and effort to decorate his cab, and lovely Kay, whose kind and nurturing ways were an inspiration.

She’s at peace now but she, and others like her, are the salt of the earth.