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after music, Ian’s second love was his clothes. He yearned to be noticed and he accentuated his imposing image whenever he could and with little difficulty. Shortly before Christmas 1973, Ian set eyes on a tiger-print scarf in the window of a men’s clothes shop in Macclesfield. He knew he wouldn’t have any spare cash until it was almost Christmas and so he kept going back to the window to check that the scarf was still there. I went in one day and bought it as a surprise Christmas present. My pleasure was spoiled because of the distress it caused Ian when he thought Oliver had been in the shop and beaten him to it!
    People who knew Ian from that time remember him for his gentleness and thoughtful sincerity. Possessions never really meant a great deal to him and, although his passion lay with buying records, once the shine had worn off he would be amenable to lending or giving them away. He was generous to a fault and it seemed to give him much pleasure.
    John Talbot said of Ian’s death: ‘I was confused because everything I read about him made him out to be a doom merchant and I don’t remember him like that. Music does propagate myths and people have tried to make that myth more than it was.’

CHAPTER TWO
WALK WITH ME, TAKE HOLD AND SEE
    Ian’s family moved away from Macclesfield in the late spring of 1973 when Ian was half-way through his first A level year. Ian had had enough of the King’s School and probably it had had enough of him. Once he decided to quit, there was no reason for the family to remain in Macclesfield, so they bought a house in New Moston, Manchester, from a friend of Aunty Nell. Ian’s intention was to continue studying for his History and Divinity A levels at St John’s College in the city centre, but after only two weeks he began to argue with his tutors and stopped attending lectures. He told me that he couldn’t agree with the views of his new tutors in the same way that he could with those at the King’s School. For a while he felt unable to tell his parents what had happened and spent two evenings a week walking the streets.
    In the summer of 1973 I took a holiday job at Parkside Psychiatric Hospital in Macclesfield. I was interested in training to be an occupational therapist and thought that working there for a few weeks would giveme a good insight into the job. I had already worked there the previous summer, but since then there had been a staff change. The atmosphere was more oppressive than I remembered and the painful inertia of the patients was typified by an old lady called Eva. It had taken her a full twelve months to progress from peeing on the floor at the department entrance to sitting down and making a small teddy bear. Perhaps my depressing tales of the mental hospital spurred Ian on, but he began to think seriously about moving to London. When Jonathan King announced he was looking for talent, Ian went down to the big city and queued with the rest of the hopefuls. He took nothing with him; he had no demo tape, noteven a lyric sheet, yet he expected Jonathan King to recognize his obvious talent!
    Ian saw an advert in a newspaper asking for young men to apply for jobs abroad. Again the interview was in London and Ian went down to find out what it was all about. The job turned out to be the position of gigolo in the South of France and Ian was asked if he would be willing to entertain rich old ladies. They photographed him while he talked. I don’t know whether he was offered the post, but he was allowed to bring home some of the pictures.
    After I took my O levels, Ian set about persuading me to follow him and leave school altogether. He implied that he had no real wish to date a schoolgirl and, to be fair, it took little persuasion for me to leave. All my close friends were leaving and I was nervous about making new ones, so I gladly took the easy way out. The idea of studying elsewhere appealed to me and I was keen to start again in an establishment where I felt I