The newly-wealthy neighbours in Upper Hutt, on immaculately landscaped sections surrounded by wooden fences painted “redwood brown” and with trophy cars parked on their driveways, were delighted when they heard that icons of the London music scene were moving into their street. But when I arrived at the Delft house I found the front of the section enclosed by high wire-netting, a goose wandering through long grass, dandelions and gorse, a truckload of rough timber slabs dumped on the driveway, and their wooden fence painted white “so Stephen can get enough light in his workshop in the garage downstairs,” explained Judith.

“Everything was artificial here, so we transplanted bushes from the hillside and let the grass grow so we could enjoy the pretty flowers. The load of slabs was given to us by a Maori worker without money whose guitar Stephen repaired. It is different from London here. I was discussing spirituality in songs with a Mongrel Mob member last month. The neighbours complained about the grass getting long, so we got Gos the goose. Now they complain even more about the Maori visitors here, but that means nothing to me; I’ve been tortured by the Gestapo!”

So much more to tell, a house crammed with 50 different stringed instruments from all round the world, and a bear suit, the free Peevey, Stephen creating the Sousaphone accompaniment I needed with a bass guitar, the pink Alsatian. Judith’s song writing advice – “Don’t tell the audience what happened; make them EXPERIENCE it, and pronounce the final consonants in each line clearly.”