Jock

We skipped the light fandango

turned cartwheels 'cross the floor

I was feeling kinda seasick

but the crowd called out for more

The Internet... a phenomenon that science fiction writers in the middle of the last century never anticipated. It's lke a window on the world, a portal to a vast treasure house of information and entertainment. We surf. We wander. We find. And there who should I encounter but my old mate John "Jock" Hornby. He was a brilliant lead guitarist but now in his fifties, I guess that any dreams of rock guitar stardom are long gone.

He works for the Forestry Commision now and lives in a Hansel and Gretel house near Burley in the New Forest. But I remember his fingers dancing on the fretboard as we practised in his father's barn or gigged around East Yorkshire so many years ago that I am loath to add them up. Jock played lead and I was the singer - belting out "Black Night", "Alright Now", "Summertime Blues" and some of our own compositions - including "Fieldhouse Rock" after the Hornby family's Fieldhouse Farm. It was long ago and far from here...though it seems like yesterday. And oddly, it now appears that one of his sons - Joshua - also sports his father's nickname - another Jock.

The Jock I knew was a great lad and we got on famously. I went to his wedding to Sally in Winchester and he came to mine to Shirley in Owston Ferry in the early eighties. In my life, I have had many friends but they are scattered far and wide. I sometimes think how lovely it would be if all the people I ever called friends could live within walking distance of this house. Better still, Jock would live next door so I could bang on the wall to tell him to turn his bloody music down!