I have had some opportunities to meet Eric — a congenial and respectful man. The first time was when Peter introduced me to him at the Windsor Jazz and Blues festival in 1967 — Fleetwood Mac’s first gig. We were in a backstage tent, and Eric was there in his latest psychedelic, Afro-permed splendour. I felt a little in awe, as I always admired him for stepping out and playing what he believed in despite public opinion.

“Is that your axe?” he asked me, pointing to the cello-bodied Jennings guitar that I was borrowing from John Charles, the former bass-player from the Levi Set. It was leaning against a couch. It had string for a strap and didn’t even have a case!

I said yes, and asked him the usual couple of questions that I would pose at meeting a fellow guitarist: “Do you play slide?”

To which Eric replied that he did sometimes.

And the second: “Do you listen to Elmore James?”

To which he replied that he did, but more to Robert Johnson.