IN re-tracing his path thus far through life - from Luton to London, calling at Bristol, Bradford, and Edinburgh (change at Leeds) - John Hegley employs some chalk, deceptively-simple poetic wisdoms, rigorously-applied layers of whimsy, and much singularity of insight. He reminds us of the casual cruelties of all our childhoods; of the confusions attendant upon the burgeoning adolescent sexuality; of the joy to be had from upsetting one's parents by defiantly proclaiming one's self to be a potato. OK, so this latter reminiscence is exclusive to John Hegley himself. Nevertheless, his appeal is universal. Sharing time with John Hegley is akin to sharing time with the first, best, and bravest chum of everyone's primary-school past.