After hearing my fathers recordings, particularly on our annual ten hour journeys to Cornwall in the late seventies (for those not from the UK, this is the only place in our 'sceptred isle' that affords holidaymakers the remote possibility of a glimmer of sunshine) there was no one I 'really' wanted to be other than Les Fradkin (or a bat catcher...another story altogether).
So when I got my first paid job, my initial purchase was a guitar and lessons. In true Bryan Adams style I played 'until my fingers bled' for approximately seven years. At this point mutual teacher/pupil consensus concluded that I was to the guitar, what Donald Trump is to race relations. It was a constant battle of opposites.
