I remember Paul Smith writing me a lovely letter after coming across this blog. He was writing from Canada where he then lived. Always hoped to catch up with him if he came over here for a holiday. Now it’ll never happen.

I remember seeing Michael Marra sing at a folk festival way back - he sang a brilliant song about a couple breaking up and splitting their record collection, which perhaps struck a chord. According to his Telegraph obituary, it was called Beefhearts And Bones.

I remember wanting to catch up with JV but never getting round to even finding out his address and writing him a letter to declare my gratitude for him giving me a chance to work for the Surrey Herald, where he taught me all I know. And I remember googling his name last week just to see if there was any record of him so I could get in touch. And finding out that he had died a year ago.

I remember Mike Appleby, unofficial Mayor of Seatown, who always had time to stop for a chat, who knew where to find mushrooms or mussels on or under Golden Cap, whose dog drank Palmers beer and ate carrots, whose wife Jean is a lovely lady who used to make quite spectacular fossil finds on the beach, and whose funeral I am hoping to get to next week.