Cambridge was wonderful. After doing a stint in the Saturday morning jam session on Stage 2, I played to a packed Club Tent in the afternoon, ably assisted by Jon Thorne on double bass. What a lovely crowd! After that, a signing session and a bit of a busk outside the Mojo signing tent. Thanks to everyone who came out to listen.

I then headed down to Sidmouth Folk Week for an EFDSS Showcase gig on the Monday afternoon, and spent the next couple of days off relaxing and enjoying the music. I saw Tim Eriksen singing beautifully in various different guises, including a one-off Cordelia’s Dad show, and great sets from Blue Murder, Chris Wood, and Jon Boden & The Remnant Kings. Best of all was a late-night singing sesh in the Bedford on the Tuesday night, replete with many a fine singer and some bubbly in a pint glass for Jackie Oates’ birthday.

On the Thursday at Sidmouth I took to the Ham Marquee stage with swathes of inspiring musicians including Martin Simpson, Chris Wood, Jim Moray, Jackie Oates and Jon Boden. For me it was an afternoon of hero overload, a real honour to be a part of. We were there to pay tribute to Nic Jones, to many one of the very finest English folk singers, who tragically lost the ability to perform due to a car accident on the way back from a gig in 1982. I ended up chatting to Nic backstage before the gig, where he quipped that he felt like the ‘luckiest man alive’ being looked after by a team of beautiful nurses during the eight months he spent in hospital after his accident. It was the briefest of conversations but Nic’s humility and wry sense of humour shone through.

After Nic took to the stage to a standing ovation from the capacity crowd, the rest of us followed and I found myself on stage sitting next to Nic while he sang along to all the songs. Before playing ‘Little Musgrave’ Martin Simpson commented that he’d never seen a group of professional musicians looking so nervous; I think we all realised what a task we had on our hands doing justice to Nic’s music, this wasn’t made any easier knowing that the man himself was sitting behind us with a grin on his face and a decidedly pointy-looking climbing pole in his hand.

Having met a few of my heroes recently I’ve been wondering why it is often said that you shouldn’t meet them. The thinking seems to be that some sort of illusion could be shattered in the process. As far as I’m concerned this is exactly why you should meet them. The illusion is probably this; that people who achieve great things are made out of a different substance than the rest of us, that they are extraordinary in some way. This is disempowering in two ways. Firstly the decision to attribute the achievements of our heroes to something approaching the supernatural implicitly puts similar achievements out of reach for ourselves. (‘You’ve either got it or you haven’t’ we tell ourselves, possibly while watching X Factor). Secondly we belittle the achievements of our ‘heroes’ who are not in fact extraordinary people, but ordinary people who - probably by similar means to those available to you and I - have achieved extraordinary things. So here’s to heroes who breathe air and swear when they drop stuff.

‘I was made to work. If you are equally industrious, you will be equally successful.’ J. S. Bach