Jim Rogers on the left, me in the middle and Bob Rogers, Jim's brother, on the right, circa 1981. We were at a party at Alan and Sheila's house in Welling Garden City. Alan was an ex boxer who worked with Bob in GPO engineering, a really quietly spoken, gentle man, the first person I'd met who had payed off his mortgage, at the time I didn't realise it was possible.

In the early seventies Jim was making large paintings  covered in circles of flat colour, twenty years before Damian Hurst. He lived in a Peabody Flat, very Dickensian, near Elephant and Castle, and was bringing up his two sons on his own, both great kids.

Bob was a right Cockney, self educated, very widely read, Union man. We would meet up fairly regularly, often with Alan, in East End pubs, usually on the Kray Brothers Manor.

I used to hold one big party a year on New Years Eve, at Phipp Street. They were packed, with people arriving from the West End in Dinner suites and formal gowns. One year, at about six in the morning, after everyone had gone except Jim and Bob, who were asleep on the floor of the studio, both on a large sheet of foam rubber. The doorbell went, woke me up and when I looked out the tiny window in my little sleeping area I saw about five cop cars and a black van. It was a raid. I let them in. When they asked me to turn on the lights I said they didn't work. I thought, 'Sod that if they think I'm going to make it easier for them.' So, much shuffling around while someone went off to find a torch. Jim and Bob were still lying on the floor just looking up at a dozen milling Plods. 'Ho, Ho homosexual orgy.' Show I.D. 'They're brothers, mates of mine dossing down for the night.'
Someone had phoned Scotland Yard with tales of a drug fuelled orgy. There were some people who arrived at about four who I wouldn't let in, probably them. 'What do you do here?', 'I'm an artist, I do art.' 'So do you have naked models then?', 'All the time, come back tomorrow.' Dozy buggers didn't even find my sleeping area, were Elizabeth was still in bed. They finally left, pissed off.

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