During my last year in my hometown, when I was desperate to get away from the Fat Controller's house, DG offered to rent me the spare room in the flat he shared with his girlfriend. As it was, I already had a solid plan in place for moving to London so there didn't seem much point taking up the offer just for a few months.
Not long before, he'd invited me to join his band on second guitar even though I couldn't play well.
He was part of a social set I'd previously gone round with, but with whom I'd severed contact following a drug-fuelled freak-out.
I began having guitar lessons with a failed musician on Hendford Hill and I guess DG had seen me walking through town with my guitar, on the way to these.
DG invited himself round one evening and I showed him a couple of songs I'd written. That was probably the first time he'd been round that house even though I'd known him since I was five.
I'm not sure why he was so kind to me about the flat and the band, as we'd never particularly got on. There may have been an element of pity involved, perhaps because I was seen by that group of acquaintances as having gone mad, or perhaps because of the state of the Fat Controller's house, which, thinking back, wasn't far off being a slum.