Ultimately Peter Bellamy was too idiosyncratic a Stylist & Ideologue for The Revival to cope with; God alone knows what casual punters made of him! The first time I met him was before I ever heard him sing when I was ligging with my Conservation Volunteer pals at our customary Thursday night soiree at The Bridge Hotel in Newcastle where he was a guest at the famous Folk Song and Ballad Club downstairs but was nevertheless forced to find his own accommodation.

He walked in the bar, calling out 'Is Sean here?' 'He is!' quoth I, with hearty cheer. 'How may I help?' 'I need a doss,' said PB, with quite dignity and acute embarrassment at having been reduced to the status of a bum. 'Someone said you'd be able to put up.'

Awkward! Of course I offered but at the time I lived in the sticks a mile beyond a very remote bus stop. Happily for him, he found somewhere closer. My God, how I dream of how it might have panned out of he had stayed with me that night, especially given the TALES that were told by straight-laced Club Organisers who dared say 'Not all all!' when PB asked if they minded if he smoked, much less the scorn he poured over folky record collections. What would he have made of my collection of Bob Roberts, Can, Art Ensemble of Chicago, Sun Ra, Harry Cox, Willie Scott, The Fall, Joy Division, Magma, Henry Cow, Seamus Ennis, Jim Eldon and Davie Stewart??

The following weekend I related the tale to my mate Raymond of the Green and the Oaken, asking if he'd ever heard of Peter Bellamy at which he took out a hefty sheaf of vinyl treasures from his record collection and we spend a merry afternoon immersed therein, which was my initiation into the back-then Very Exclusive Cult of Bellamism (we were both confirmed Eldonists at the time - still a Very Exclusive Cult) and I've never looked back. I've seen whole het up audiences get up and walk out of Bellamy gigs; there was always at least one irate individual took exception to his provocative anecdotage that would give Mark E. Smith a run for his money in terms of purposeful controversy. Naturally, We Loved Him Madly.

I won a raffle once at one of his gigs - first prize, the choice of his recorded wares. 'What do you recommend?' I asked. 'This one,' he said, thrusting a copy of Keep on Kipling at me. 'Best thing I've ever done.' It is as well. Shame Fellside fucked up the CD issue of it with the inclusion of 'extra tracks' that make a nonsense of the original vinyl sequence. Heigh ho. In a fair world it would get a mini-album Japanese edition without the need for sleeve notes & extras.

Of course if only he'd hung on a few years by now he'd be a National Treasure by now, singing with the backing of Bellowhead at his 70th birthday celebrations at Cecil Sharp House with everyone fawning on about how, of course, we always loved him too - but alas, 'twas not to be. There never was, and never will be, anyone quite like him.