I remember seeing the Amazing Mr Smith serving behind the bar at the Anchor Inn, Seatown. His daughter had backed out of her shift that afternoon, and rather than let David and Sadie down, he stood in for her. Apparently he was really nervous about doing it, but he needn’t have been. He was hilarious. It was like being served by Professor Branestawm. I didn’t know until recently that he was an actual genius, a mathematician and scientist. I had only seen his folk scene persona – which came right out of that background. I’d like to think that, when he took his own life earlier this month, he was having his last laugh - I presume West Bay was falling over itself the next morning, thinking filming had begun on the next series of Broadchurch. R.I.P Derek Smith.

I remember looking in awe at the gatefold sleeve of Jimi Hendrix's Electric Ladyland album, which I had just bought, on my way home in the front seat of a double decker bus. I had never seen that many naked women at one time. I can still remember some of their faces.

I remember a fellow OU member who lived in a flat in the Barbican and collected carrier bags.

I remember buying a car from a dealership for the first time - the wonderful Fang. Before that I used to buy my cars out of Exchange & Mart, or from friends or friends of friends or family. But this one, a Ford Sierra, cost shedloads of money but came with a guarantee. I needed it to tow a caravan.

I remember Exchange & Mart.

I remember the way the musical theme appeared (I’m Popeye the sailor man) as Popeye sucked the spinach through his pipe at the moment the tide turned and he managed to gain the upper hand over Bluto.

I remember Becker starring Ted Danson. He seems to have had no difficulty in reinventing himself over and over for different television shows. Seems like a nice guy too. (Charlie met him and his equally famous wife in New York once).