It was like an Aladdin's Cave of vinyl, with albums and singles piled up from floor to ceiling in no discernable order, save for the occasional box that was labelled "rock", or "60s" or "disco" or some such description.
On a teenager's pocket money, though, it was a treasure trove of music, all available for a fraction of the price of the brand spanking new article, providing that you didn't mind the sleeve being scuffed, or the vinyl scratched, with the occasional jump.
The place itself was dark, just the right side of musty, and if you held out any hope of finding a particular album or single on your own then you stood about as much chance as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Rob, though, for it was he who owned the establishment, seemingly had the chaos inside his little kingdom mapped like the back of his hand. Asked for a single, say Boston's More Than A Feeling as I once did, he would look skywards for a brief moment, as if seeking divine inspiration, and then suddenly lurch towards a particular pile of vinyl and pluck it as if from nowhere.
In the age of internet record stores and relentless chain stores that have all but driven the independents six feet under, I'm happy to report that Rob's Record Mart is still alive and kicking in Hurts Yard in Nottingham, and should you find yourself in the middle of my old hometown then you really should pay him a visit, as you'll never experience another record shop quite like it.
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