Rebel with a cause: The David Hockney I knew
For six years, in the 1990s, I was David Hockney’s ex-pat English next-door neighbour in the Hollywood Hills. A rickety blue fence divided us as well as 18 years. I spent Christmas with him one year at his cottage in Malibu, me and twenty other men eating BBQ turkey in shorts and Speedos. We got to know each other pretty well, having some memorable adventures together in LA as mischief-making Brits who regarded the city as something of a playground. Neither of us took the Californian authorities especially seriously. Hockney was certainly a rebel at heart.