I remember being impressed by the number of people my brother always seemed to know as he walked along the street in his home town of Falmouth. One day, walking along Piccadilly in London with my girlfriend and a work acquaintance of hers, I bumped into and passed the time of day with a work colleague from the Mail on Sunday. A hundred yards later I did the same with a workmate from the Daily Telegraph. Impressed the hell out of my companions! Impressed the hell out of me!

I remember Emile Savundra on the David Frost show. He was the head of an insurance company that had collapsed and when they started taking questions from members of the audience who were victims of the collapse, I was astonished to see Mr Kennedy, who had been my chemistry teacher my first couple of years at grammar school.

I remember seeing Spike Milligan in The Bed Sitting Room at Wimbledon Theatre and how he peeked out from between the tabs and said: "What are all those people doing in my room?"
I remember being able to buy a quarter of warm salted peanuts from Woolworths.

I remember how you could always see more stars in the sky when you were on holiday. And comets.

I remember Roger Charles seeing my wedding ring and asking if I was bisexual. I felt flattered.

I remember the cat at the end of all MTM (Mary Tyler Moore) Productions. The one on Hill Street Blues wore a policeman's peaked cap.

I remember the controversial Windscale being renamed the unknown Sellafield, as is if we wouldn't notice.

I remember them renaming Treets, Marathons and Picnics. Why?

I remember Simon Dee.

I remember the anticipation with which I awaited the release of the next Rolling Stones single. The opening riff of Jumping Jack Flash was particularly exciting.

I remember buying Electric Ladyland (the Jimi Hendrix Experience album with a gatefold cover full of naked women).

I remember missing my request (the theme from Wagon Train) being played on Children's Favourites because I had gone to Saturday Morning Pictures. My teacher (Mrs Lamond?) had heard it and mentioned it on the Monday morning at school.

I remember doing Richard Faulkner's butcher's round one week while he was presumably on holiday. The bike had a great big basket on the front, and the butcher was probably T Kingston's in North Cheam.

I remember being in love with both Christine Evert and Chuck Connors.

I remember Valor paraffin heaters and Ascot water heaters.

I remember working by the light of a hurricane lamp during the "winter of discontent".

I remember Lee Boxell going missing in September 1988, mainly because he lived near me and was the same age as my daughter. She might even have known him.

Introduction (and test post)

I remember stumbling across the second part of Gilbert Adair's Myths And Memories.