THERE are some rituals of youth that you never forget. If I'm ever unfortunate enough to hear the opening notes of The Last of the Summer Wine theme music, I'm seized by a panic of unfinished homework.

The two went hand-in-hand on Sunday evenings and cast a dark cloud over the end of the weekend.

Sunday was school night and bath night. Something grim hung in the air, you could almost touch it, and although I didn't know it at the time, that gloomy Sunday night feeling would last a lifetime.

But there was a chink of sunlight, thanks to another Sunday night staple, long since abandoned. This was the ritual of listening to, and taping, the Top 40 on Radio 1.

It was, of course, illegal, but we all did it back then. There was a bit of a knack to getting it right; you had to be ready to press the Record button on your radio/cassette just as the song was starting, then press Stop just before the DJ's mid-Atlantic drawl chipped in at the end. This was supposed to create the effect of songs seamlessly blending into each other on your cassette recording, but instead they were usually linked by a series of muffled noises where you'd frantically reached for the Stop button a second too late.

There was something exciting about counting down the Top 40. As well as taping records you hadn't got, you could trace the progress of those you'd actually bought. Those were the days when record sales meant something, and because you'd handed over money for a record, instead of pulling it from thin air, you felt you'd invested in its chart status. I dutifully tuned in every Sunday tea-time, lying on my bed with half on eye on my homework, and followed the countdown, with its mounting sense of tension hurtling towards Number 1.

I soon grew out of it, and I haven't listened to Radio 1 since Oasis and Blur were sticking fingers up at each other, but still I felt a little sad to hear this week that the chart show is moving to Friday.

The digital age has had a significant impact on the charts, and audio streaming is now included in the chart show alongside physical sales. And, with single and album releases now shifting to Fridays, it makes sense to move the countdown too.

But the demise of the Sunday night chart rundown is another nail in the coffin of my youth; gone the way of other adolescent rituals - saving up for albums, scrutinising the lyrics in Smash Hits and watching videos on Top of the Pops. And Sunday nights will be forever bleaker for it.