On this day some years ago

Today would have been our ninth anniversary of getting together, had my ex and I still been together. However, before you start thinking I still feel about it like I used to, I'd like to point that it only occurred to me this evening when I was writing a long-overdue cheque to my mother for a match ticket. I looked at the date I'd just inscribed and thought "08/08... 08/08... why does that ring a bell?" before realising why.

Another thing today would have been is the 57th birthday of a friend of mine and former workmate of my dad's who died of liver failure in 1990 at the age of 42. It was Alan who introduced me to Al Stewart the thick end of twenty years ago. More to the point, he made a Bob Dylan fan out of me in about 1979, for which I remain grateful. He was a huge fan and had a truly astounding collection of Bob Dylan records which extended way beyond the official releases. Alan had a shelf full of Dylan bootleg albums that would make most collectors weep. From the time he became a fan he saw Dylan every time he came to this country, starting at Newcastle City Hall on the infamous 1966 tour, six months before I was born. He always swore blind that he didn't boo him during the electric set and remained disgusted at those who did. He was never obsessive; he always kept things in proportion. He knew the difference between Bob Dylan with something to say and Bob Dylan talking complete bollocks. He wasn't one of those sad, pathetic bastards who spend half their lives analysing deliberately obscure and meaningless lyrics on the '60s albums looking for profundity where none exists. He just bought everything he could lay his hands on because he loved the music, for what it said to him when it had something to say and for entertainment when it didn't.

R.I.P. Alan. I still miss you, mate.