NOTHING triggers the flow of colourful childhood memories more effectively than a mention of the many kids' comics that were avidly read, and then eagerly swapped, in pre-TV times.

A grizzled old-timer, shielding under the pseudonym of Hey Nonny No, first set this particular ball rolling a week or two ago by listing some of the publications from his youth, sandwiched between the two world wars.

And now, a couple of correspondents from as far apart as Prescot and Chester, have picked up on the theme.

Prescot reader, M. J. Crampton, was intrigued by mention of the huge comic-swapping craze of the 'twenties and 'thirties. Brought up in Junction Lane, Sutton, he assures us that this activity still thrived at least 30 years later.

"We swapped all kinds, from the Dandy and Beano to the 72-page all-American comics in full colour." Many of those Yankee publications were obtained from American kids then living on the nearby Burtonwood air base.

"The haggling and negotiating during these comic-swapping sessions would put an Arab market trader to shame," adds our Prescot pal. All kinds of rules and combinations came into play before any transaction was completed. "For example, two black-and-white comics for one coloured; and two English for one American." The terms were endless!

"Scores of kids of my age in the area swapped comics and I had as many as 20 different addresses where I could trade. But by far the biggest collector was a boy named Dave from Powell Street, just around the corner from our house. He was the undisputed comic baron of Sutton."

M. J. C. adds: "He had thousands of comics, all stacked in various categories. Whenever you went round to his house the haggling would take hours -- often at a forced whisper if his dad was on night turn."

And whenever Dave was out, his mother took on the negotiating, temptingly holding out the various comics at arm's length so the young would-be trader could inspect them.

"Talk about a tough negotiator!" exclaims M. J. C. "I remember to this day, as a 10-year-old, standing freezing on their front step trying to negotiate a deal with Dave's mother. All the local kids groaned inwardly whenever she answered the door!"

Mabs Turner, who claims Hey Nonny No as an old friend from way back, continues the cheery topic. Writing from Saltney Ferry, Chester, she reminds us that our mystery correspondent had earlier invited comment from 'Fellow Methusalehs' about the comic craze of his boyhood during the 1920s-30s. "I have no idea what the feminine version of Methusaleh could be, but I certainly fit into that age group," says Mabs. Before launching into her comic-swapping memories, she reveals that the proper Christian name of Hey Nonny No is John, and refers to him thus throughout her chirpy correspondence. "John and his family are cherished friends," explains Mabs, "but John most of all because we are closest in age and share and addiction to the printed word."

Then off she trots along the trail of childhood recollection. "Being a right little bossy-boots (and I still am!) at the age of about ten I organised my two younger brothers into pooling their Saturday pennies with mine. We would troop to the local newspaper shop to choose two comics -- from among Funny Wonder, Jester, Larks and Chips etc."

They were limited to just two, which cost one old penny apiece. The remaining penny bought two separate ha'penny bags of creamy or treacle toffee from the little front-parlour shop of a neighbour whose wife made trays of this delicious confection.

"That we lived at a shop which also sold sweets, for which we would not have had to pay, never deterred us from this expedition," says Mabs. "This was something special!"

Returning home, the little trio, who had three other siblings, would sit at the foot of the stairs ("the quietest place in a very busy household") and share out their purchases.

"Those early comics contained two pages of full-length stories and even the pictures -- showing the latest exploits of characters such as Constable Cudddlecook, Marmaduke and his Ma, Weary Willie and Tired Tim etc. -- had four lines of narrative under each one. Rainy Saturday mornings? We never noticed the weather!"

Unlike friend John and the rest of his fellow-swappers, Mabs and her brothers and sisters never parted with any of their comics. "My mother kept them all in two deep drawers, and since these included comics bought by older members of the family years before, they were a never-ending source of pleasure on days when the weather stopped us from going out to play, or when off sick from school. If that stock had been preserved it would now raise a fortune from collectors."

Having two older sisters, Mabs eventually progressed to reading their copies of the more grown-up publications. "But I preferred my big brother's Adventure and Wizard which were not really comics, but full-length pages of stories."

Though some of the more haughty parents might scorn comic reading as a waste of time, Mabs is grateful for this early learning experience. "I can clearly see how this reading was of benefit. At the age of about eight I had come across words like safari, carbine, ventriloquism and reconnoitre, knew their meaning and could spell them.

"I even learned from one of my big brother's books where Kabul was, a piece of information which led to wanting to know about India, and thus to the delights of the works of Rudyard Kipling."

And she signs off with a pointed little question: "What can modern children gain from their endless TV and video games which would give them the same lasting satisfaction that reading gave to us, starting with those comics of the 1920s? They are missing so much, and the sad thing is that they are not aware of it!"

MY thanks to M. J. Crampton and Mabs Turner for those welcome comic-cuts contributions.