The memories that matter most cost nothing

Family, nature and the simple joy of swimming in the sea with Watson … the moments that become the memories we carry with us.

Adam swimming with Watson from Porthdinllaen Beach to the Lifeboat Station.

I’ve just returned from a week in North Wales, somewhere that has been part of my family life since the 1970s, and it got me thinking about what we actually remember from childhood.

For me, it is not the things I was bought. It is the places, the people and the time spent together. I remember camping, beaches, swimming in the sea, woodland walks, picnics, bike rides, rock pools, fishing on Dad’s boat, building things, collecting things and those long days outdoors where very little was planned and almost nothing needed to be purchased.

This week, I found myself noticing the same kinds of moments happening all around me. I watched a dad and his son exploring rock pools together, a mother collecting shells on the beach with her daughter, an uncle creating a huge tower from beach boulders, and grandparents building sandcastles with their grandchildren. It was also heartening to see so many families spending time together at the Osprey Wildlife Centre at Bywyd Gwyllt Glaslyn, watching, learning and simply being absorbed in nature.

Later, at Caernarfon Airport, families stood watching the small planes take off and land as they carried visitors on pleasure flights along the Llŷn Peninsula. I did suggest we joined them, but Mum, Granny Susan - was having absolutely none of it. Grey seal spotting with my nephew Harrison was another real highlight, and one I know my Dad, Harrison’s Grandad Paul, would have loved. We lost Dad on 15 August 2007 and, every year since, we raise a glass to him. There can be few better places to do that than on the beach he loved so much.

None of it was complicated, and that was exactly the point. Looking back, what many of our strongest childhood memories have in common is not necessarily the activity itself. It is the feeling of being together, of having time, of being absorbed in something simple and of sharing experiences that felt ordinary then but stayed with us for decades.

That feels increasingly important today. Technology has brought extraordinary benefits and I use it constantly in my own life and work, but screens can also creep into every spare moment. It is easy to hand over a device when a child is bored, or to feel that creating a memorable summer means spending more money, booking more activities or somehow making every day special.

I don’t think that is what children need most. When adults talk about their own childhoods, the stories are often remarkably simple. They remember baking with a grandparent, helping in the shed, building a den, picking blackberries, learning to ride a bike, kicking a football around the park, playing cards, planting seeds or simply sitting together and listening to stories about when their parents or grandparents were young. Children do not need perfect holidays. They need present adults.

Perhaps that is the real lesson. We remember who gave us their attention, who taught us something, who laughed with us and who made time for us. The greatest gift we can give children is often not another thing, but our presence.

And you do not need a week on the Welsh coast to create those kinds of memories. They can begin in a garden, a local park, a kitchen, a shed, on a walk around the block or with something as simple as planting a few seeds together.

So here is a challenge for the rest of the summer holidays: put the phones down for a while and create one memory that does not need Wi-Fi. Bake something, build something, plant something, teach a game, tell a story, go for a walk, look for insects, pick blackberries or simply sit outside together and see what happens. And if you need somewhere to start, why not take up our Grow Happy Cress Challenge?

Cress seeds take around five minutes to sow and about five days to grow. Children can watch the first shoots appear, water them, measure them and then eat something they have grown themselves. It is a tiny activity, but it creates curiosity, responsibility, connection with nature and, most importantly, a few minutes of shared attention.

Years from now, they may not remember what was on the screen. They may not even remember the cress. But they may remember who was beside them when they planted it - or, in my case, who agreed to buy it for 10p a punnet!