We were, in the words of the song of the day, ‘Football Crazy’. Back in our formative years my mates and I had little time for anything else, although speaking for myself I seem to recall a burgeoning interest in school chums Sarah Hope and Barbara Robinson roundabout this period. But in truth the game held sway at this stage of our lives and our heads were more likely to be turned by a Dave Mackay sliding tackle than a female classmate’s flirtatious toss of the hair, our loi

My dad used to cast a critical eye over Top of the Pops, and remark upon The Stones, “There he is, old rubber lips,” The Kinks, “Is this the kinky one?”, and later, when overhearing my records, “Who’s this then? Ned Zeppelin again?” A few years ago, when TOTP was still going, and Take That were going round for the first time, I heard myself querying their attire. “Anoraks? Can anyone tell me why they’re wearing bloody anoraks? Indoors, and in July?” This was around the time

It was a shock when we realised that we were bound for a school where the hobby we pursued most keenly was not permitted. No, not that one.