It’s funny looking back. You get a sort of a pain…just…HERE! That’s if your arthritic condition has been aggravated by mammoth sessions of holding guitars the weight of giant redwoods – for four or more usually five hours.

That’s our jams.

The therapeutic and utterly hedonistic opportunity to play hours of absolute bollocks [and, dare I say, experience the odd moment of sheer elation] without feeling even remotely

a] responsible for your actions
b] exposed
c] liable to any sort of criticism, except sartorial or behavioural
d] that you can stop eating
e] as if you actually did that.

Years of friendship and John’s home brew have removed any barrier whatsoever in this musical free for all. And, thank God, it’s the one opportunity I get to play without giving a toss if I get anything wrong. In all seriousness, when you know each other as well as we do, it’s a telepathic blast. And, hey, so if we’re the only people who get it, then... Oh God... are we the only people who get it?

I ran into Tony and John via a mate when I was living in Muswell Hill. A pal with a pair of ‘loon’ pants from which the crotch had mysteriously vanished. A condition [he had others] that disturbed everyone around except the owner who was quite proud of the fashion statement he was making. So one evening, when he suggested I meet some pals of his who played music and had ‘recording equipment’ I quickly strapped on an instrument, as it were, and followed the trail of cotton and flapping denim that shadowed my pal, all the way to the other side of town.

The resulting meeting was a blast. Through my hair and sideburns I could see that these guys were great to play with, funny and they made recordings. Not strict formula stuff but much looser and more fluid. Unlike like the pop I was playing [I had my first deal round the same time. A typical first signing that skilfully gave everyone but the artists the money. So much for the Law studies I was pretending to engage in.

Through Tony, John and Caroline, whose floor I became very familiar with, I met Rod. I knew he was sophisticated, because he had a red Alpha Romeo. However that later metamorphosed into a Scimitar, then, strangely, an Austin Maxi. Which worried me.  Tony was playing with an enviable finger style picking technique which really impressed me. I couldn’t get that down then – and still have to cheat now. And he was writing really different and interesting songs. Very folk influenced, which I really wasn’t, but really good. John was playing bass and responsible for the recordings, and he already had a fantastic facility with tape and a very distinctive bass style – like Chris Squire on acid. Rod’s keyboards added an almost surrealistic quality to the music. Not just in the sounds and effects it produced, but to the point of actually introducing the Dam Buster’s Theme into the end of the set after straightforward rock song.

Jonny, Caroline’s brother, was a pal of the guys I was sharing a flat with and it all gets a little blurred how one thing led to another– it usually did! But he used to come along and play harp and sing lower than me and Tony. And he was into weird stuff. Dangerously different stuff like Beefheart and The Velvet Underground. Which was great. Add to that the haunting harmonies from Tony’s sister Julie, and Caroline on BVs and there it was.

We recorded – still do - played a few gigs, but always, always got together for jams whenever we could. The line-up varies from time to time with availability but, in essence, we’ve played together now for around 30 something years and we don’t intend to stop, age gracefully, or improve.

There are many abiding memories. Lots of them recorded. But playing a major college gig without our drummer, who’d failed to turn up, and only a 7 watt Fenton Weill valve amp standing on a chair miked into the p.a. to play my guitar through, is a lasting one. It went down great – thank God, despite the fact that the whole rhythm section, himself, personally, was absent! What the hell did we do for cues?  Come to think of it, have we ever paid any attention to them anyway? And some git in silver boots nicked our mike stands.

Maybe we should do it again some time?