And the missing never really goes away.

I lost my brother in 1971, at age 21, by which time he was already a far better guitarist than I was then (at 23) or have ever been since. But then he used to practice for hours a day sometimes, inspired by the likes of Wizz Jones and Mike Chapman. He had also started to write a few amazing songs, inspired particularly by Pete Atkin and Clive James, but gradually finding his own voice.

The sad thing is, there is practically no one around now who remembers him. But I do, the laughter, the sound of his voice, everything.