Memories are funny things. They pop into one’s head at the most odd times and for no apparent reason. How wonderful the good ones can be though, and how they can make one smile. As I trudge through the woods with the dogs this morning, the legacy of a night’s rain drip-dripping on my head from the overhanging branches, an early morning sun barely visible, I am glad of the wellington boots encasing my feet, rubber boots that squelch through the mud and wet. Heedless of the water-logged ground, I splish-splash on my way. The Duke of Wellington stumbled, quite literally, on a great idea when he modified the original…