musical heritage were fed into his consciousness through some of his father’s folk music projects taking place in his front room. Whether those sessions stimulated his desire to play folk fiddle or not is debatable, as his early interests were mostly classical.

His lasting interaction with the community of Nottingham was kick started by folk sounds from a nearby house party, which had spilled out on to the street. Cars and motorbikes were used to block off the road and musicians filled the space. This call to arms had him reaching for his violin, guitar and chronically paranoid housemate. He knew his time had come.

This party cemented his relationship with the lightning quick fingers of Mr Jack Turquand, a friend who was to later introduce him to the Fish and a man of unequalled meanness in regards to his political ideas. When he inquired as to the nature of the material and was informed that it was “skiffle”, he simulated a drum beat over the phone to interpret its meaning.

The Fish on stage at the Malt Cross provided a feast for Patrick's eyes as well as ears, along with the colourful expression of the audience through the medium of dance and drink.

Patrick’s musical education continues and will continue until his dying days; unable to resist the shiny exteriors and sculptural qualities, he acquires the musical instruments of friends who give up on them. He has not yet himself had to make the dreaded visit to Cash Converters.

His aspirations include living in an adequately insulated house, passing on traditions to his children and to never make mistakes.