As I'm married to a librarian, all my books are neatly filed. I have a shelf of poetry books and it is a wonderful reminder of the 1960s and early 1970s in Liverpool. Some of the poets had their work published by major publishers or national presses (Adrian Henri and Roger McGough by Jonathan Cape, Brian Patten by Allen and Unwin, Henry Graham by Andre Deutsch, Spike Hawkins by Fulcrum); some by local presses (Brian Jacques, Dave Calder, Sid Hoddes, Matt Simpson, Richard Hill and Malcolm Barnes by Raven Books: Matt, Sid, Nigel Walker and David Porter by Toulouse Press); and some by themselves (Harold and Sylvia Hikins). Then there's the best-selling Mersey Sound volume in the Penguin Modern Poets series and Edward Lucie-Smith's The Liverpool Scene. I also have copies of the booklets published for the Merseyside festivals of poetry, Brian Patten's magazine Underdog, and Russell Pemberton's Contrasts. It's a formidable collection – maybe 3,000 poems by local authors – and over the years I have thrown away just as many to make space. Most of all I regret discarding Richard Hill's Hard Up, a witty collection heavily inspired by Roger McGough.

McGough, Henri and Patten dominated the early years of the Liverpool scene and created the atmosphere in which poetry performances could flourish. Henri stayed, and their influence can be seen in all the other poets. They themselves were an intriguing mix. Roger McGough with his high-speed delivery had the best puns in Liverpool; Adrian Henri was lyrical and autobiographical and quite open in his desire for A-level schoolgirls; Brian Patten was a traditional romantic with a modern cutting edge. At Merchant Taylors’ school in Crosby, I had been taught by ‘Yogi’ Shepherd that writing lists made bad poetry, but when I started going to readings I discovered that Adrian Henri did it all the time – ‘Without You’, ‘I Want to Paint’, ‘Me’ and ‘Tonight at Noon’ were all great lists, so Yogi was wrong.

I went to many poetry readings – maybe 100 or more – and I don't think I ever groaned when I saw who was on the bill. Even if derivative, everyone had something to offer and every evening there was something to think about or amuse you.