For those of you who didn’t know him we will try and explain why Gautam Berry, who died of a massive heart attack in the early hours of Friday morning, meant so much to us.

The man had texture: the dark bitter hue of the fine home brewed espressos or the half cups of tea that he would drink incessantly; the sooty notes of a JJ Cale riff and the three cigarettes he would set aside to smoke rationed and cut precisely with a scissor daily; the sandals worn with socks, and paired with khaki bermudas and hawaiian shirts. The unmatched humour accompanied with the acerbic wit that could hurt like a sharp object, and often did.