Dearest Caroline: I wonder if you will remember me: I used often to meet you and Sandy at the clubs where he sang in London in 1956-57; he would always ask me up to sing. It is long ago and we have had no contact since; but you and he were real friends at the time [I remember you at a birthday party I had in Hampstead in the flat I shared with John Brunner, later one of the most distinguished of sf writers — everyone there was bowled over by the beauty of Sandy's singing]; and I still have some of the EP discs he made at the time for Collector Records which I still often play. Sandy lived to a good age, and I am 77 myself now; but it is always hard. I lost my own darling wife Valerie of nearly half-a-century, whom you might just remember as my fiancée while you were here, two years ago. So I know the grief you are feeling after all these years: and I do offer you and your family my most sincere condolences in your sorrow.
Michael Grosvenor Myer