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who begged us to perform. However, he was not negotiating from a position of strength, and David managed to double our wages on the spot. Like all the other choirboys I was very impressed. I used the tactic repeatedly before Stranglers gigs for pure entertainment value, managing to extract all sorts of dangerous drugs from unsuspecting promoters, who would do anything to retrieve the situation and avoid dealing with an angry audience.

      The first record I owned was ‘What Do You Want To Make Those Eyes At Me For?’ by Emile Ford & The Checkmates, which my Aunt Audrey and Uncle Adrian gave me one Christmas. I was delighted and played it non-stop until I could sing along to the whole song, making everyone’s life a misery. The first single I went out and bought myself was ‘Here Comes Summer’ by Jerry Keller, which I learnt and can still sing now, but you wouldn’t want me to, as it’s pretty naff.

      We all went to Burghley Road Primary School. This was ten minutes’ walk from the prefab and the journey involved going over a railway bridge, the scene of many fantastic spud gun fights that I thought were tremendous. Being the youngest, there was always one sibling to go to school with or see me home, but invariably we were late home due to the spud guns. There must have been a shortage of potatoes in many homes at that time as they were really popular.

      I got into trouble with my parents when I was called in to see the headmaster and asked what I wanted to do in later life. All the boys were being called in and everyone was wondering what on earth to say when it became their turn. It’s not something you spend a lot of time thinking about when you’re 10 years old and we had no idea why it was happening. Still, there would be no careers officer at my secondary school, so I suppose I should be grateful that someone was taking an interest, albeit rather early. So I found myself waiting in line outside the headmaster’s office with no ideas whatsoever. It came to my turn and I went in.

      ‘So, Cornwell, what do you want to do when you grow up?’

      ‘I want to be a singer, sir, like Cliff Richard.’

      My headmaster almost fell out of his chair.

      ‘I see. Thank you, Cornwell, you may go now.’

      When I got home, he had already contacted my parents to tell them and all hell broke loose. I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. We had only been given a few minutes to consider what to say, and I thought it would be best to be truthful. Besides, train driving and fire fighting just didn’t appeal to me.

      I had discovered Cliff quite recently and he could do no wrong. It may be hard to believe but back then he was a rock ‘n’ roll rebel. Eighteen years old, leather-jacketed and the star of a feature film called Serious Charge about a priest being accused of homosexual advances by a young tearaway. I was given Cliff Sings, his first studio album, the next Christmas. It had eight titles on each side, four rockers followed by four ballads. I must point out that this was when his backing band was called The Drifters, before the name change to The Shadows. Cliff had released a string of rock ‘n’ roll classics, starting with ‘Move It’ (which had been written on a London bus by Ian Samwell), progressing through ‘High Class Baby’/ ‘My Feet Hit The Ground’, ‘Living Loving Doll’, and ‘Mean Streak’/’Never Mind’.

      I was extremely disappointed with ‘Living Doll’, it being a ballad, but the B-side was the superb ‘Apron Strings’, and was the reason for buying ‘Living Doll’. ‘Travelling Light’ followed, again a ballad, but again amply supported by ‘Dynamite’ on the other side. Many people now don’t realize how hip Cliff was when he first started, being the UK’s answer to Elvis Presley. He’d just released two EPs from a live concert, called ‘Cliff No. 1’ and ‘Cliff No.2’, on which the girls’ screams were so loud it was difficult to hear what was being played. He hit Number 1 in the charts with ‘Living Doll’ and ‘Travelling Light’, which made him the top artist in the UK in 1959, but by then my interest was waning as his sound became more and more manicured. I liked a couple of songs on the EP from his second film Expresso Bongo, particularly ‘The Shrine On The Second Floor’, but I’d already started looking around for other music to interest me. At the time, Elvis seemed much too obvious to pay attention to, and then I discovered The Everly Brothers. What great writers these people were, with fantastic melodies to sing along to and great lyrics as well.

      I was about twelve when I met Richard Thompson at my new school, William Ellis. He was into music as much as I was and he could play amazing guitar. He lived a few minutes away from me and we were able to get together nearly every day to share our passion. I would visit him at his parents’ house after school, and find him playing along to sheet music of Charlie Christian material. We would also introduce each other to new artists we had discovered – I can remember being blown away by the Stones’ version of Buddy Holly’s ‘Not Fade Away’ when he first played it to me. It was at about this time that Richard suggested putting a band together. I couldn’t play guitar but he was willing to teach me bass. A bass only had four strings and they were easier to find with one’s fingers. I bought a homemade electric bass for £5 from a friend at William Ellis and Richard started giving me lessons. The neck was the size of a milk carton, which made it very difficult to play, but when I graduated to a Hofner violin bass – like Paul McCartney – which I had saved up for, I started making progress.

      Richard’s father was a top detective at West End Central police station in London’s Soho, which just happened to be where the top music stores were, on Denmark Street. These stores were robbed on a regular basis and booty would turn up at the station and have to be disposed of after months of not being claimed by anybody. So Richard got hold of some great equipment for our fledgling band, which was loosely called Emil And The Detectives. We had an enigmatic lead guitarist called Elvis, plus another guitarist friend of Richard’s called Malcolm.

      Remarkably, one of the first gigs we did was supporting Helen Shapiro at the Ionic Cinema in Golders Green. Our set was composed of rhythm and blues classics like ‘Smokestack Lightnin’. It was at about this time that we recruited a new drummer from school. His name was Nick Jones whose father was Max, the editor and jazz critic at Melody Maker. Nick had modelled himself on Keith Moon’s drumming style and he fitted in very well. He had a fantastic drum kit.

      Richard’s elder sister Perri was a drop-dead gorgeous blonde, the social secretary at Hornsey College of Art, so pretty soon we were getting gigs at some of their parties. One was held on a boat moored at Eel Pie Island on the Thames. Richard’s dad and mine had been recruited to drive our equipment down to the gig in their cars but there was no room left for us, so we had to make our own way down by Tube. Nick was pissed off because he had dressed up in his Who gear, complete with black sneakers with white arrows on them, and felt very self-conscious.

      I started going to gigs as well as playing them around this time. Richard and I went to the Astoria in Finsbury Park to see Chuck Berry play. The line-up was awesome. The Nashville Teens opened, and they were due to hit Number 1 that week with ‘Tobacco Road’. Next onstage were The Moody Blues, who had just been at the top spot with ‘Go Now’. Following them were The Swinging Blue Jeans, but we had been spoilt by the support acts and so the audience booed their set, which they cut short. Then Chuck Berry hit the stage and I loved it. It was an incredible line-up and at the time I thought every gig was going to be this good.

      It’s a cliché that your schooldays are the best days of your life, but few people would agree. Mine approached perfection though, due to the fact that it took me about five minutes to walk to William Ellis from home. It was situated on the edge of Hampstead Heath, next to not one, but two, girls’ schools – one of which was a convent! Not that I had much idea about girls when I was a teenager and even less of an idea about what to do with them if they could be approached. The closest my school got to contact was a combined dance class each Friday afternoon with Parliament Hill Girls’ School, which sixth formers were allowed to attend, but I never went.

      Due to the proximity of my school, I could get up at 8:30 each morning and still be there in time for assembly at 9. I went home for lunch and never experienced the infamous school dinners. It also meant that I could be home by 3:45 after our last lesson finished. I can see with hindsight that the overall result of this was that I never

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