I remember sitting in a bar at the Royal Lancaster Hotel with a champagne cocktail and a bowl of nuts, feeling like goddamn Holden Caulfield.

I remember the excitement of BBC2 and Radio 3 simulcasts, whereby you could watch, for example, the Last Night of the Proms - and listen in stereo. Wow.

I remember stuff I learned at primary school that I still make use of now, such as scoring paper or cardboard so as to get a neat fold.

I remember Crackerjack.

I remember there was a factory on the way to Kingston which had the company name, Dallas, in large letters on the side of the building or on its chimney, which whenever I saw it reminded me of the Dallas Boys, a five-man singing act who we had gone to see in a summer show while on holiday, I think supporting someone like Lonnie Donegan.

I remember shaggy dog stories and knock knock jokes.