Just over three years ago, on our anniversary, Sue and I went to see a 26 year old singer/songwriter who we only knew of by reputation. I’d heard a couple of tracks by his old band, Whiskeytown. Ryan Adams played a stunning set of old and new songs. The packed club loved him. On the recording of the show that circulates, I can be heard laughing loudly at some of the between song banter. On the way out, he was standing in the corridor opposite the loo, talking to punters, a diminutive, modest guy in a check shirt. I shook his hand and signed up for his mailing list. I had tickets to see him again after that but was unavoidably detained by a book…

This is the time of year when people make lists and I’m no exception. 2003 had been a rotten year because of a bunch of professional and personal reasons I’m not going into here (this is not a blog, after all) and the shameful invasion of Iraq. I’ll be glad to see the back of it. However, there were lots of good bits worth remembering. For instance, we had four nights in Rome, and I saw my favourite band, REM, twice (the second time at Glastonbury) and also saw great gigs by David Bowie, Neil Young and Evan Dando, amonst others. Gig of the year, however, had to be Paul McCartney on his first night at Sheffield Arena – a fantastic show and an emotional…

John Harvey started it, back in ’86 or ’87. He made these end of year compilations (we didn’t call them mix tapes then) of his favourite songs of the year. They were usually titled with some wry quotation from a song lyric. In ’87 I made him a tape in return. In ’88 I made copies of the tape for a few friends. Mike made one back, using C120 tapes from the start (a bit too long at times, plus the tape’s too thin to risk in the car stereo) – Mike always likes to cram in as much music as possible. In the mid-nineties, my tapes crept up to 100 minutes in length. Come the millenium, everybody bought CD recorders or computer burners and…

We get to the pub just after eight. We’re only stopping for a quick half before having dinner with old friends. In my local’s upstairs room is a celebration party for a new friend who’s just won a city council byelection. It’s early, so there are less than a dozen people there. We’re sitting at a table with the new councillor, the local MP and his wife. The MP gets up to greet somebody. I recognise the new arrival, although for a moment I can’t place him. An ex-county councillor, I think, someone I knew back when I was a party activist, twenty years ago. No, he’s too young. A university lecturer, maybe. He’s dressed in a somewhat bizarre combination of old jeans, pink shirt…

Comic books hooked me on reading. My grandparents in Sheffield used to post my brother Paul and me a bunch of comics every week. They were The Beano, The Dandy, Hotspur and TV Comic. I got through loads of novels by Enid Blyton but comics were my big love. At eight I discovered Superman and Batman. I spent all my pocket money on them. A little later, I found Marvel Comics. They were still in their Golden Age of fantastic art and stories. I became an addict. Spiderman was my favourite. Then X-Men, The Fantastic Four and The Silver Surfer. But Marvel comics were hard to find. Nowhere in West Kirby had a regular supply.  I found the issue of Spiderman featuring the death of…