I remember meeting up with Paul Hutchinson and discussing a new group that had appeared since we had finished primary school a few months before. It was the Beatles. We thought they were quite good.

I remember Andy Mackie's brother in a group called the Gravediggers playing in the hall at the Tiffin School Whitsun Fete.

I remember the Post Horn Gallop played over the Tannoy system to call us to meal times at the Sussex Club.

I remember wetting myself on the stage while waiting for a school photograph to be taken.

I remember when you only had fireworks on or around November 5. I used to look forward to them as an annual marker in the run-up to Christmas.

I remember floppy disks. I.4mb. Wow. And I think my first hard drive was 40mb. Today I bought a 320gb external hard drive.

I remember reading in the Telegraph's deaths notices that a George Childs had died suddenly in South Africa, and hoping it wasn't the George Childs that I knew from Nat West, Camberwell Denmark Hill. He was my manager then and liked his wine, women and song - well, perhaps not the song. He used to make sure we had some Beaujolais Nouveau in on BN day. And he would take us for a curry and put it on expenses. I recently learned from the obituaries list I get each year from the bank's pensions department that he had indeed died.

I remember bumping into Derek Harman on the train home from work one night at the end of January, and writing about it here. He was my manager at Streatham 266 High Road. He had retired way back and carried on directing shows - as Del Harman - for various amateur musical and dramatic societies. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet me and to find out about my new life and tell me about his. I found out recently that he had died in August.

I remember a Christmas show we did at primary school based on Hans Christian Andersen stories, and one boy had to walk down through the audience in his vest and pants so everyone could sing "The king is in the altogether". I can't recall his name, but he was tubby, with glasses, I think. A bit like Piggy, from Lord of the Flies. Wonder what became of him.

I remember being the blackbird that carried Thumbelina, who was played by Lesley Hawkes.

I remember one Christmas Eve having so much wrapping to do we didn't get to bed until 6am. Eliot woke at seven.

I remember catching the last train home after a PA Christmas party and falling asleep just as I came into the platform at Wimbledon. I woke up at Woking where the train stopped but there weren't any going back to London so I began walking. I accepted a small lift from a police car because I was on a bit of road you shouldn't be on, but ultimately I walked as far as Esher and at about 7am phoned my parents who came and picked me up.

I remember when Bob Dylan released Self Portrait the critics savaged it, but Marc Bolan wrote or spoke out in his defence, saying all Dylan was doing was singing love songs, and what was wrong with that?

I remember a poem cut out of The Listener which I used to have taped to the top of my bedside table. It was by Patric Dickinson (which might not be the right spelling although I think the first name is correct) and despite years of searching on the Internet I have not been able to find it, but it was about love, chalk and precipitation - or something like that. I thought it was particularly beautiful.

I remember watching Tim Quirk, the best barman in the universe, serve customers at the Anchor Inn, Seatown. He would make everyone feel special, even kids deciding whether or not they wanted a straw.

I remember my son Eliot used to make car journeys go quicker by reciting whole episodes of The Simpsons. He did all the voices as well.

I remember Enos. For indigestion and stomach upsets.

I remember when people used to queue at bus stops. Even children.