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Doubt you’ll read it in any obituary, but he lived in North Wembley for a few years in the 1970’s, went totally head over heels for a 17yr Wembley High girl, spotted him out of his mind, roaming the streets crying his eyes out over her on a couple of occasions. He had a neighbour, Pete Baker(no relation), a black cab driver, who he’d call at all hours to come and get him home from wherever, usually in a pretty bad shape. Pete’s got some funny f..king stories about those days, if you’re ever in the Windermere for an afternoon session buy him a pint, he’s happy to recount.
Edit: Mulling that over, I'm pretty sure she was 15 years old.
He was just a bloke with his own personality, that's all just a bloke like most of us. Difference is he could sure play the drums as he did in one hell of a band who's music I love. Only Clapton left now. RIP Ginger. Thanks for the music.
Born under a bad sign. I've been down since I began to crawl. If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all.
My Father had a profound influence on me, he was a lunatic.