I was going to write something that was probably slight, hopefully funny and just trying to bring a little cheer. But that all stopped on January 22nd – the day Mick Peat died. I won’t go on about my personal grieving, that’s my private loss but I should take heed of the wider loss.
His touch, the way he extended his hand to all, be they young upcoming first-footing players and singers, established performers and industrial-strength management, or someone he’d met in the street and told them; “You should come. You’ll like this!” before selling a ticket or two comes close - but he was more than that.
He lived, breathed and supped his chosen glass etched with folk music. He was, by his own admission, a little lost to the way things had changed, (he was 80 years old) technology was not his best suit, neither the uber-brilliant stylists who didn’t touch his heart. Some might say, he lived in the past – but it was a good past – a fifty-odd year past – a time-served past - and he knew what he liked and it didn’t matter how young they were, or how many blocks they’d turned the corners of.
Of course he had his old favourites, he was a very successful promoter but he was never blind-sided to the “spice” of the new. I believe this was bent on “Do they believe it” and in Mick’s terms, if they didn’t, he would see through it.
In more recent years as he grew old he recognised two things: First, he may be out of his time and Second, what a time he’d had – most certainly the best of times.
I’m glad he had the best of times – I’m glad I shared some of those times. And I’m glad Mick’s passion and legacy will go on: “The Mick Peat Drystone Bursary.”