I went to a Les McKeown’s Bay City Rollers gig in Holmfirth recently. It’s true, I did. And here’s Les and me backstage at the Picturedrome before the show. My good friend, Judy, was a huge fan in the 70s. Wore the tartan as a teenager. And her husband, my friend Mike, didn’t fancy it one bit. So I said I’d organise things. Les and I socialised a little at the end of the 70s and early 80s in Los Angeles and London, so he was quite happy for us to visit backstage. And it was Judy’s great moment: her Mohammed Ali moment. Her Bob Dylan moment. She met Les. Her teenage idol. And Les was as nice as could be to her. Judy now has her own small gallery of pix with Les. It’s good to make people happy, isn’t it…

Will sing a couple of tracks with Steve Norman’s band (including my guitarist Paul Cuddeford) at the Holborn Pizza Express on October 7th. Only asked him for a pair of Guest tickets, which he said was no problem – then he talked me into performing. Singing for my supper? Yep. And that’s fine. Steve N is one of the great musicians and people of our business. And he’s my friend.

Advance party on site at Glastonbury. Everyone gets a wristband!

Seems a long time since Chelsea, yet at the same time…….anyway, I liked that venue. Small (550 capacity) but it had everything. Seemed user-friendly. For the performers, it was near-perfect. Then to Holmfirth. Quite a different kettle. Big space. Big noise and a Fan Convention, too. Stewart’s quiz was a stinker. I would have to Google myself all over the place to get more than 50% of the answers right. I’d like to know how many correct answers the winner managed. Do tell, Stewart. And did the wee collection of AAA Passes we sent go down well? I wish I could have been more generous, but I am not a big hoarder of my own career’s memorabilia.

What a year that was. The list of high-profile performers’ deaths seemed never-ending, beginning almost twelve months back with the shattering realisation that Bowie had gone, and the dreadful shock of losing George Michael on Christmas Day capping it.

Status Quo and my band might seem like odd bedfellows, but there’s something about their fans that I like. And they don’t mind me, it seems. Rochester was good enough, but Caldicot Castle was a real blast. New bass player, Kuma Harada, has boosted the feel of the rhythm section more than somewhat. He is keen to take a solo, too, on Best Years when I throw it into the set. I’ve struggled to get bassists to look like they are enjoying themselves for a lot of years. Billy Dyer does, and now so does Kuma. I like players who like playing, and show it. But he won’t sing. “You won’t like my Japanese accent”, is his excuse. And that’ll do.

The “Rock For Ronson” event proved a real joy. It was good to see old friends like Suzi, Mick’s widow, for the first time in many years. Mick’s sister, Maggi, sang “Ziggy Stardust” with my band backing her, and his daughter, Lisa, performed two Bowie songs that her dad had made his own, musically, with Earl Slick on lead guitar, and my chaps.  Steve Norman joined the band for the whole set, and shook the old City Hall to a tremor with a blistering saxophone solo and improvisations n “Cavaliers”.

I'll keep this brief. It's been quite a crazy time lately. Baby born; baby now, finally, named: Cameron (after his strong Scottish ancestry) William (after his South African bloodline; father-in-law is Willem) Nice.

Click Read more to see proud Grandad with the wee bairn. He's a cracker.

How do I put this without feeling my age, or even older than my age? Straight to the point then: I am a Grandfather. On  February 3rd, 2016, daughter-in-law, Lieze,  and my son, Kerr, were gifted a healthy and, dare I say, beautiful (aren’t they all?)

I wanted it to be a clever, dastardly stunt. I didn’t want it to be true. David Bowie dead? I mix with people who were close to him. I never felt a hint of a serious medical problem from any of them. David, cancer? His friends were as loyal as he’d obviously asked them to be. That in itself speaks well of the man. My thoughts are with those who were his family and friends. I hadn’t actually spoken to David since Marc Bolan’s funeral. But the Beckenham days have always been with me, so a certain friendship, with the smallest of Fs, has endured. For now, many