It was with a sense of wonder that I looked at your phone number written on a crumpled piece of lined paper. This number, I've no idea what later happened to it, that could connect me to a real live rock star.
It took me a few days to pluck up the courage to dial. An international code.
When I finally did, and you picked up, I could hardly speak for what felt like a brick in my throat.
You said, 'Is that Jonathan? Good to hear from you man.' Then you said, 'just a sec,
let me get settled' and there was the sound of ice clinking in a glass and a cigarette being lit.
The salient points that I remember:
You worked hard to pass your O levels. You had no interest in being a rebel.
You thanked God that you were still a working musician.
Donovan and Roy Harper lived near you. I told you that the first gig I ever went to was one of Roy's. You said that the next time you saw him you'd tell him.
Jimi was just a shy kid. It was the fame that did him in.
The official albums were the only one's worth having. All the others were garbage, record companies cashing in.
I can't remember anything else, but Noel, you were a really kind, gentle, gentleman.