Thank you, Dick.

It was Whitby Folk Week and we set off for a concert at the Sailing Club. At the top of the narrow flight of stairs stood Fred Jordan. Stay there, boy! he ordered. He came down the stairs and gripped my arms tightly. Looking me in the eyes, he said, 'Tis unlucky to pass on the stairs! I thought it would be unlucky to pass Fred anywhere.

When I took my shirt off that night, there were five bruises on each arm. They were there for ten days.