I remember Comerfords. But I don’t remember why.

I remember having a very brief temporary job at a hi-fi store. It was the Richmond branch of a well-known chain but I’m not sure if it was a true memory or not. I’m sure that was where I was advised not to bullshit, because the customer would invariably know more than you.

I remember being spotted by a customer at the petrol station where I worked filling a bottle with tap water with which I was intending to top up his battery. Oops! A Jaguar too. But I worked there for quite a while, only leaving because I’d been offered something more ‘worthwhile’. The bank had begged me to return.

I remember Anne Briggs’ comeback appearance. It was at a folk festival and she was due to appear there over the weekend but lost her nerve during her first performance and as far as I know has not sung in public since. Which was a shame.

I remember bumping into Sara Grey in a supermarket (Tesco?) in St Helens (or somewhere beginning with O?), to which I had travelled to visit my cousin after seeing Sara at Cleethorpes Folk Festival. It turned out she also lived that way. Unfortunately she’s gone back to the States. Excellent singer and banjo frailer.

I remember being scared of Sara Nelson.

I remember being afraid of Alex Millson, and he’s just gone all soft and given up work to become a house-husband and look after his little girl.

I remember the man next door to us had an Alsatian that he used to train in his garden. He would stand there and shout ‘kerplootz’ at the top of his voice. which we thought was hilarious. He might have been shouting ‘come close’ but we never found out because they moved away.

I remember driving up the ramp to pick up Charlie from her Saturday job at Ratners, in Sutton. The other day I drove past and the ramp was in the middle of being demolished. Ratners is long gone, and I presume the building in which it was is also now no more.

I remember – because it was only a few hours ago – knocking my bottle of beer over in a nightclub. I was there for a sales launch, you understand - I don’t do nightclubs. It was only Heineken. But it was free. I stood the bottle up, upon which it fizzed and frothed up over the top. I picked it up and tried to stop it but it fizzed and frothed even more, making a dreadful racket on the floor. Out of nowhere two guys turned up in black, one with a small torch, the other with a roll of paper towel, which he proceeded to unspin, and together they cleared the mess in double-quick time and disappeared. I need them round here, following me round the house.