I have known Richard Wileman for longer than either of us would care to admit. He was a year below me during our sixth-form salad days. Although a whole year in school terms is enough to keep you in your different worlds, I remember bumping into “Paddington,” as he was affectionately known on account of his rather splendid duffle coat, in venue foyers across the south, more than likely having just watched Marillion or some other up and coming neo-prog band. (Incidentally, I write this just before heading off to see Fish on his final tour before retirement, which feels like things have gone full circle.)

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