WE can all remember our favourite teachers. They pop up everywhere.

Teenage magazines feature them, celebrities are asked to name those who had the most influence over them - there is even a children's TV programme asking youngsters to nominate teachers to be sent down a slide into a bucket of slime.

Now one teen magazine, Bliss, has carried out a teaching survey across Britain, including the' Best Teacher Awards'.

Voting took place in four categories: the coolest teacher, the nicest teacher, the most inspiring teacher and the best-looking teachers (male and female) in the UK.

One hailed from North Yorkshire where I went to school.

I'm not sure whether my teachers would remember me, but it's amazing to think how great an effect they have upon pupils because, when I think about it, a whole quarter-century after leaving, I can easily name who I would stick into the above categories and why.

Coolest: Here, there was no contest -- Mr Johnson. His name was Richard but he liked everyone -- staff and pupils -- to call him "Dick", something I never felt particularly comfortable about.

He was tall, with wiry brown hair and I think he taught biology, although he was so laid back that we did so little work that I'm not sure.

All I remember is him reclining on table tops in his jeans (any teacher who wore jeans was seen as ultra-cool) and baseball boots, having a laugh with the lads who sat at the front.

That was an indication of his extreme coolness and popularity -- the fact that the rowdy boys who normally sat at the back messing about, took the front seats.

Nicest: My one-time form teacher Miss Hopkin, who was sweet and pleasant in the face of constant rebellions from certain quarters.

In fact, she was so nice that I don't think she was quite up to the job. She was quiet and shy and often blushed.

I clearly remember on my first day -- and hers too -- she looked like a frightened rabbit as we all filed past looking like a bunch of St Trinian's drop-outs. I firmly believe she was more suited to a village primary than a 1,500-pupil comprehensive.

The most inspiring teacher: Had to be Mrs Nicholson, my geography teacher and, I think, the deputy head. Commonly known as "Ma Nick", she was small and wiry and rumour had it that she previously worked as governess in a tough women's prison.

I think I was the only pupil who liked her, but she always gave praise where it was due and, as it was my favourite subject, I worked very hard to gain her approval.

In fact, looking back I was a bit of a swot in that class and I probably deserved a good kicking behind the bike sheds (the sort that was regularly handed out to the handful of children who opted to take Latin during the lunch break) from the less dedicated pupils.

Mrs Nicholson made geography interesting - I have never known anyone talk so enthusiastically about cirrus clouds and Continental drift.

I am sure it was because of her that I went on to study the subject after leaving school.

Best-looking teacher (male): This taxed my brain a little because Colin Firths they were not. Not one had the sort of smouldering looks that compelled you to carve his name into your arm with the sharp end of a compass.

We had a reasonably attractive history teacher called Mr Berry ("Bilberry" to us as, unfortunately for him, his first name was William). He was medium height with dark hair and looked a bit like Chevy Chase.

Best-looking teacher (female): Miss Pickup (we made the most of that name, I can tell you) was, I hate to say, the best of a pretty dreary bunch (and I'm not just saying that as a bitchy female).

She had an appalling bubble perm but she wore gorgeous clothes.

Isn't it funny, the way they all stay with you, like it was only yesterday?