We knew it mate… Somebody said to me / You know that I could be in love with almost everyone / I think that people are the greatest fun / And I will be alone again tonight, my dear…

I want to tell you all the mad shit that’s happened since you left, but I’m saving it up for another time, and you can tell me more stories about ferrets. You’re in my thoughts, in the dedications written inside the books you gave me, in the tunes that we both loved. Thank you for being the friend I always felt completely safe with. I will love you forever, you mad bastard!

You saw straight through me George, and there was no judgement, only affection. That meant a lot. Thank you for igniting mundane spaces with energy and destroying any chance of people taking themselves too seriously.

Thank you for being so in touch with nature that now I see you everywhere. I can’t wait to see you in the big meadow in the sky, where we can dance by the fire like wild banshees once again. Thank you for all the beautiful (and silly) memories.

Thank you for the Falmouth adventures in your van, for sharing your brilliant world and music with us, and for always seeing the beauty in people, with such unique observations that I still remember.

Thank you for being the only other person I’ve known to collect the patterns hidden inside envelopes, for seeing beauty in strange places, for always being curious, and for loving people just as they are.

Thank you for the Valentine’s card with the picture of Richard Madeley watching a man getting checked for testicular cancer on This Morning. Nothing says romance quite like a middle-aged daytime TV presenter watching a stranger having his bollocks squeezed live on national telly.

Thank you for always being non-judgemental and brutally honest. I could tell or ask you anything and you’d always be fascinated and have a different, valuable take on it. I’ll miss your perspective, wit, and love for me and others, when I felt most unlovable. Thank you for the music and the laughter, and for so much else.

How I miss you in every song I hear. I am forever thinking of you and remembering what a beautiful human you were. I hope you’re basking in the sun, arms behind your head, surrounded by meadow flowers and a gentle breeze.

You ignited such joy, intellect, humour, and humanity to so many memories. I loved you from the first moment we met and that never faltered. You were a fascinating creator in every sense. I am thankful for and miss your words, music, outfits, love, and laughter.

I hadn’t finished being friends with you, but now your power is deeper in my days. Thank you so much for all that you showed me. My love for you will always make my life more colourful, and I am so grateful for that. You are a rascal. I’m so sorry that you couldn’t stick around.

Thank you for making a home with me and filling it with your beautiful, ugly treasures, and idiosyncratically categorised art materials. Thank you for listening with kindness and without judgement. You always understood me and gave me the space and support to learn about myself and grow. I miss everything we did together.

You often spoke of being full of fear, but to me you were always fearless and full of courage.  You became my friend at the exact moment I needed, and I could not have asked for a better one. There are still so many things I want to talk to you about, but I guess it’s all going to have to wait. I love you; I miss you; I’ll see you when I see you.

You got me and I got you. Thank you for being my friend and for always caring. I miss you and I will love you forever. See you in the ‘shrooms one day.

Thank you for showing me what being open is. I will make sure my kids always know, so it can be your legacy. It flattens my heart that they won’t get to know you and your joyful bits. I’m sorry I got frustrated and I’m sorry we couldn’t make it better. I know how much you suffered, and I know how hard you tried. I hope one day we can sit and chat, smoking rollies and shooting clay pigeons off a balcony in the sunshine, wearing just our pants.

You infectious devil; that whirring, bubbling, excitable ejaculation of joy at the majestic and the mundane is a feeling I have been delightfully cursed with since we meandered along dusty tracks in Glasto. Is there tennis in the afterlife? If so, save us a court and you can pop the tube of balls. Eternal love, you beautiful, imperfect happenstance.

A memory from a hilltop somewhere; we leaned into the wind, arms held jackets wide, as birds we soared in Cornish skies. I love you so much, George. Thank you for every moment we spent together. The lines of the colouring book never stood a chance with you…

Artist, friend, partner, brother, son, legend. Ride on, George, we love you.