Ringo's seat

I'M SITTING IN Ringo's seat. I know it's his because there's a gold plaque behind me with his name engraved on it.

Next to me is George's place, then Paul's, and in the corner, John's.

We're in the back room of the White Star pub on Liverpool's Button Street, just around the corner from the old Cavern Club - the original entrance of which is still there.

From the memorabilia on the wall, I gather this room was where the lads used to escape to when they'd had enough of their fans.

You can't visit this city without encountering Beatles nostalgia - love 'em or hate 'em, they are here, part of the warp and weave of the place.

And somehow this nostalgia gives our visit here an extra and unexpected dimension.

It's not that I was ever a screaming fan of the Fab Four, but I did grow up with them, with their music.

I was still at school when their early hits came out and I'd been at work for three years by the time the group broke up - they provided the some of the songs that formed the background to my teenage years.

Of the lads themselves, I was always fond of their easy charm and disarming humour - which I now realise, of course, are very characteristic traits of Scousers generally.

So yes, I did enjoy our short visit to Liverpool - leaving aside other cultural wonders of the Albert Dock and the Tate gallery - if for no other reason than because I sat in Ringo's seat.