Mr G wasn’t happy when I arrived this evening. He’d been left Hanging on the Telephone trying to get through to the housing association to get them to come and fix his lights. On top of that, he had spent a lot of his day trying to coordinate medical appointments that he considered to be of dubious efficacy. He was sorely tempted to disappear on his Holidays in the Sun.

He cheered up over the course of a long chat where he recalled his rebel tendencies in childhood and in particular, being there at the start of the UK punk scene in 1970s London. It was the fashion more than the music that had attracted Mr G to the genre and he showed me pictures of some of the punk pioneers, one of whom was a close friend. He had created some amazing artwork of his own and let me take a snap of a striking Sex Pistols pastiche. Certainly was Somethin’ Else.

Oh, and I popped out to the supermarket for him. Fortunately the shelves weren’t Pretty Vacant and I collected everything on the list quite quickly.