Musical youth

"If music be the food of love, play on."

He had a way with words, Shakespeare.

Like most people, music is something I enjoy. I have bought hundreds of CDs, been to dozens of gigs and a few festivals, written terrible lyrics that could have become awful songs, although never really had notions of being a performer. I bought, and still buy, music magazines.

I was born in 1977, Silver Jubilee year and about a month before the Sex Pistols were being held off number one by Rod Stewart and scurrilous rumours of chart fixing.

My childhood of the 1980s: the time of New Romantic, New Wave, heck even Wham! ...

... except it wasn't.

I did watch Top of the Pops when growing up ( "It's Thursday! It's 7 o'clock!") but can remember none of those iconic or awful - or both at the same time - performances.

My young taste in music was, frankly, terrible. (But is it not the same with any child?) Any singles I bought would be picked up in Morrison's supermarket with the weekly shopping. Woolworth's was a foreign land. HMV, Virgin, Our Price - these meant nothing to me. WH Smith may have prompted some curiosity, but I was more interested in the latest copy of Electron User or the computer games.

It wasn't until my first Saturday job much later that I began to expand my horizons. University broadened them further, bolstered by grant and student loan. I'll talk about my favourite discoveries separately.

But for now, and as I recall them from my ageing brain, I'm going to confess to the horrors I purchased with my pocket money. It might not be pretty.