I remember at the end of The Knuckledy Crunch and Slippledee-Slee Song, a nonsense song on John Martyn's 1968 LP The Tumbler, a civil servant-type voice pipes up with "Is it folk?"

I remember walking along the high street in New Malden very late one night, either on our way to or back from a party, with four or five of us singing Sympathy for the Devil at the top of our voices.

I remember taking Fairport Convention's Unhalfbricking album to a music lesson and playing a track - I think it was Autopsy. Bruce Pullen, our music teacher, ripped it apart, saying how unsubstantial it was and making various arguments for its worthlessness. I couldn't understand how he couldn't like it but I couldn't express why I though it was good other than to make noises of enjoyment. I still love that song, and I still can't explain why.

I remember when I was newly married putting together little plastic football players for a Subbuteo-like game for pin money. I wish I could remember how much we used to make - it was something ridiculous like £1 for a 100.

I remember delivering leaflets for a carpet company. That was while I was still at school and that paid even less. I think Mike West arranged it through a woman who lived somewhere mysterious such as Mogador or Merstham. There was none of that throwing the leaflets in a ditch or hiding them in a wardrobe like in Billy Liar.

I remember Argent, around the time of their biggish hit, Hold Your Head Up, playing a gig at Kingston Poly, which is now of course called Kingston University.

I remember visiting a friend of Dave Hawkey - or it might have been David himself - and being in awe that he was allowed to work on a stripped down car engine on the table in the kitchen.

I remember thinking Tim Buckley was crap when I saw him as support act for the Incredible String Band - probably at the Royal Festival Hall. In my defence, we were in ISB mode, and he most definitely was not. I also went on to buy his album Blue Afternoon - probably because it was on Frank Zappa's co-owned label - and still think I Must Have Been Blind is one of the most beautiful songs ever recorded. But at the time I couldn't wait for him to get off stage and take his 12-string guitar with him.

I remember Paul Gogarty being knocked off his bicycle in the high street in Worcester Park and probably being the first young person I knew to die.

I remember the yes-no interlude.

I remember Twiggy.

I remember Beech Nut chewing gum. There was only that or Wrigley's (spearmint or doublemint).

I remember seeing a peregrine falcon taking a woodpigeon in mid-air. I was impressed.