I remember the end titles to The Flintstones, where the lights go off one by one in the night-time townscape of Bedrock, but then one by one go on again after Fred has been locked out and is shouting "Wilma!"

I remember Mr Pastry - and discovering that a young upstart whose performance I was reviewing for The Stage at Christmas had actually trained with him!

I remember when I was about 9 or 10 my schoolfriend Barry Hodkinson had a real bow and arrows - real archery stuff, not pretend like mine - which he was probably allowed because he had an elder brother, Terry. One day Barry was shooting out of his bedroom window into the garden as usual when he shot a sparrow by mistake. The bird had just flown into the path of the arrow. He felt was so bad about it that he broke the arrow.

I remember taking a shortcut towards the end of a round-Surrey bike ride I did with Jennifer and Ren - the Highwayman's Ride I think it was called. Only a small shortcut. We had arrived at Epsom Downs late and everyone was cycling away from it as we got there. We still arrived back as they were all going home.

I remember Richard Beckinsale trying like mad to get into Paula Wilcox's knickers - yet still exuding innocence.

I remember tea caddies. They were fixed to the kitchen wall and dispensed a teaspoonful of tea leaves at the push of the button. We didn't have tea bags then.

I remember Camp coffee. It was in an HP Sauce-shaped bottle and it was liquid. Back in the days when we made tea in a tea pot.

I remember the sight gag Harry Worth used at the start of his TV shows with his reflection in a shop doorway. You'd know it if you saw it.

I remember walking along at a Tiffin School fair with my hand non-chalantly placed in my girlfriend's back pocket, and the mock-authoritarian tone of a master - I can't quite remember who, but probably Bert Seaborn - calling out "Gurrin, boy, take your hand out of there!"

I remember Spangles.