How much I enjoyed, in the August issue, reading of the traumas experienced by infant music-collectors with more money than confidence. It reminded me of my time in the mid-70s spent working behind the counter of Bristol Wireless. That sounds today like the name of a perfectly viable business opening the door to a cable-free world of technology. Back then it was middle-Britain’s way of referring to the radio.

Behind the daunting array of radiograms on offer was the record department, specialising in classical music, but also open to Radio Two fare and the top 50 albums and singles. It had listening booths on one wall and carousels with cassettes and 8-Tracks on the others. It was a civilised environment where the staff wore suits and ties but we relied heavily on our customers for so much of our entertainment. The occasional requests for a twelve-inch were standard fare, but the real riches were served up at Christmas when people were obliged to buy music which had never previously featured in their universe.

We had surreal requests to decode, such as ‘Have you got “Long Live the Leaves” by The Who?’ from someone who had obviously never been to Leaves University. Others drew inspiration from Carry-On films, like the customer on a quest for ‘Scheherazade’ who volunteered that it was by ‘Rips yer corsets off’. Being Bristol, Handel’s Missile was a seasonal favourite. We won’t forget Dvorak’s ‘News of the World Symphony' in a hurry either.

The crowning glory was undoubtedly the telephone enquiry that corpsed my colleague for a full ten minutes and almost suspended trading. It’s not often that you’re asked for the ‘I’m inclined at night music’, and I think that’s a pity.

I’ve probably forgotten more than I’ve remembered but I wondered if anyone else had made or heard of similar errors when buying music. Len Zeppelin was very good by the way.