As a young player and dealer the 80’s and 90’s London auction rooms were always a bit intimidating, despite the kindness of one or two auction houses. You had the usual suspects! Always someone playing ludicrously tough pieces very well, also the other end of the spectrum somebody playing so badly it was excruciating! Viewing days were a trial, SO noisy, people crashing around on violins! It soon became clear that a stormtrooper tactic was necessary, go in fast, check just the one or two items you were interested in, then leave!

In the middle of all this carnage I would stand away from the chaos in a quiet area, it was usually in this situation that Norman would appear, come across and have a chat. He was shockingly knowledgeable, happy to share views and had a tremendous memory for bygone players. He would chat about seeing Christian Ferris in the 1950’s in Liverpool, talk about his playing, his bows. For a young player it was just what the doctor ordered. I liked him a great deal, this feeling seemed mutual as we would always find time for such conversations.

His knowledge of instruments was tremendous, I remember once at the Wigmore Hall showing Norman a fabulous red Landolfi, the moment he saw the violin he pointed at the scroll and said ‘well, that’s wrong!’ This was within three seconds! So good was his eye.

Near the end of his life he phoned and suggested I come over to look through his bows, to my shame I told Norman I was too busy and would see him at the next viewing. Not a particularly kind thing to do to such a good colleague, who always found time for me, I hope he forgave me!

Rather like the late, great, Bernard Millant sitting up there chatting with all the great bow makers I imagine Norman deep in conversation with the Italian violin maker Storioni. Telling about a young violinist with blonde hair from Manchester instantly falling in love with one of his violins in a visit to his home in the 1990’s! Goodbye Norman, thank you for your guidance and friendship.