AS celebrity meetings go it was perhaps not the most glitzy, but for a music-lover it was a dream – and a chance to tell a genuine hero of mine exactly what I thought of him.

Walking from the press cabin, backstage at last month’s Cornbury festival I spotted him talking to a photographer friend, and couldn’t resist the chance to make a nuisance of myself by barging in. It was Bob Harris – Whispering Bob – a legend of the airwaves and a veteran musical missionary who basically taught me everything I know about music.

For other kids of my generation, it was all about John Peel, for others the troubled Andy Kershaw, but for me it was always Bob; that hushed, sonorous voice, caressing our eardrums from the set of the Old Grey Whistle Test or, later on his radio show, introducing another rhinestone-spangled gem from Nashville or dusty acoustic treasure from Oklahoma.

Of course he sounds exactly the same in real life – age only serving to enrich his honeyed tones. And, I was delighted to discover, he was warmer and charming than I could have hoped.

It’s a funny thing meeting one’s heroes. The old advice, of course, is that one should never do it. In this line of work, however, it’s an occupational hazard. Thankfully, in my experience, the traditional warning is wrong.

The number of idols – either from stage, screen or record – who have proved to be disappointing can be listed on one hand. And while I am not about to name them here (though I may be tempted to spill the beans on some truly horrific celeb encounters with the offer of a pint), those rare flashes of arrogance, rudeness and cantankerous are hugely outnumbered by displays of humour, modesty and a general gratefulness for the opportunity to discuss their life’s work.

Curiously, the level of magnanimity is invariably proportional to the level of fame; the worst hissy fits reserved for non-entities, or, particularly, stars long past their glory days). And Bob – who was also the inspiration for The Fast Show’s turtle-neck sporting Jazz Club presenter, Louis Balfour (“nice”) – is a prime example of a man who could afford to be curt, but is far too much of a gentleman... and a dude.

My delight at meeting Steventon's silver-haired broadcasting legend was only enhanced by an anecdote supplied by my colleague Christopher Gray about Bob’s policeman dad. “Not many people know,” he told me, (in fact they do) “that this fine enforcer of the laws of decency was the man who felt the collar (but I hope nothing else) of the legendary trouser-ripping PJ Proby, when the star had one of the worst of his ‘accidents’ on stage in Northampton”.

One can only speculate on the impact the encounter had on the young Master Harris, who has made no secret of his own refreshing attitude to the Law.

Here’s to you Bob. Long may you charm and inspire.