At some point around 1977 or 1978 I travelled across the Mersey to Liverpool with my mother and my friend Ian.

Ian and I shared a passion for American comic books like Spider man and the Fantastic Four. We had heard an urban legend of a shop in Liverpool that sold nothing but these hard to come by treasures and the day was to be spent in tracking down this place; mum came along because as an ex art student she knew all the places such a shop was likely to be.

After what seemed to be an age we arrived near the area now known as 'Cavern walks' and came across an imposing looking doorway. Above the door was the word 'Probe', a fact which I'm sure led to the mistaken belief we had found the goal of our little quest.

As we entered the shop we quickly realized our mistake. To my twelve-year-old eyes this was the equivalent of walking into the bar scene from Star Wars. They who at the time were considered the downfall of western civilization, Punks, populated the dark and smoky place! Red hair, blue hair, safety pins, Mohican's, dr. martins & drainpipes and much else that my imagination has embellished the memory with since.

Whilst Ian and I struggled with our fight or flight instincts my mother brazenly approached the counter, and addressing a very unapproachable looking member of staff, politely inquired if there were any comic-books on sale. There were not but the, as it turned out, very helpful shop assistant directed us to a room at the back of the shop were there would be someone who would know where such a shop could be found.

I remember lots of spiked-hair and black clothes lounging on sofas in a back office. I remember faces as confused as our own at the unlikely apparition of a middle aged primary school teacher and two twelve year old boys suddenly come amongst their dope smoking serenity.

I lost my fear of punks on that day. I also gained knowledge of where to find American comic books whenever I wanted them. I didn't know at the time but Liverpool was in the middle of a musical renaissance and Probe Record was something of a hub to this scene. A scene which produced bands like Echo and The Bunnymen, The Teardrop Explodes (a name found in a panel of an American comic), Dead or Alive and Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

In due course music replaced comics as the primary obsession in my life. Where once the dark shadows of a Steve Ditko New York promised to conceal another sinister foe now the dark shadows cast by the music of the Rolling Stones became the source from which I drew my inspiration. Money earned from my paper round would be spent on scratched old vinyl from Reaction Records in New Brighton and my ambition was to emulate Keith Richards rather than Jack Kirby.

At around this time I embarked on new quests across the fabled river, this time alone, skipping school on a Monday to be sure to see the box in Probe Records opened for the latest release by The Smiths or Echo and the Bunnymen

I struggled to learn every stones riff I could, listening to Brown Sugar over and over