My own particular memory of Dave is of an impressive gig he and Heather did at the Students' Union in Sheffield back in the '70s. Unexpected heavy snow trapped a few of us there for a while afterwards, and he kept us entertained with stories. The one I remember involved the (then quite considerable) dangers of arranging to meet Christie Moore in a pub in Dublin.
Dave and Heather headed off when the main roads were clear enough. I walked home, and found that Brunswick Street (centre of the red-light district at that time, and my quickest route) had been completely barricaded with snow, except for a small pedestrian doorway. Snowmen and snowwomen lined the streets, and just around the corner from my house was a rather pornographic one. I wish I'd had a camera.
Arriving home, I found my housemates still up, so we took our revenge on a neighbour who had been giving us a hard time, by building an igloo around his car.
All that seemed to follow on naturally from meeting Dave, somehow. I like to think that he would have found it mildly amusing, though it would have been small recompense for his stories.