Sometimes it snows in April...sometimes an event that should never happen, happens.

Prince Rogers Nelson, aged just 57, and with the looks and the energy of a man 30 years younger, has suddenly died. It is almost impossible to comprehend he has gone. He has been a touchstone of talent and emotional release for me, ever since my sister bought me Sign ‘O’ The Times for my 17th birthday.

It became the soundtrack of my summer. This beautiful and strange little man brought much-needed funk and weirdness to my straight suburban existence and from then he was always there for me.

He was there a year later when I was a pale and punk-haired outcast living some misguided Ernest Hemingway dream in a macho fishing village in Australia. Everyone there hated Prince and that was fine with me. I can still remember sitting alone in the early hours of the morning in the local bar watching a Prince concert on the tiny screen where he played a seemingly endless version of Baby I’m A Star from the Purple Rain album, full of audience-teasing false endings. I smiled non-stop.

A couple of years later I infuriated a girlfriend in Barcelona by forsaking a tour of the city’s architectural delights in favour of holing up in a cinema that was having a Prince big screen all-dayer: Purple Rain, Under The Cherry Moon and Sign ‘O’ The Times live. The latter contained scenes so incredible I can recall them at any time, no matter how dark my original mood, and I will be bathed in delight. There’s the moment Prince takes over the drums to let Sheila E rap and plays with an expression on his face suggesting he has no idea what he is doing and every beat is a guess...but, of course, it sounds amazing. Then there’s the moment during Hot Thing when he knee slides across the stage and through backing singer Cat’s legs, ripping off her mini skirt with his teeth in the process. On I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man, a just about perfect song anyway, Prince adds a thrillingly insouciant guitar solo which he completes while performing the splits in sky-high stilettos. Give that a try Eric Clapton!

He was also there for me in the Czech Republic where I went to teach. My pupils learnt to speak English through me playing Prince songs to them. They could recite Sign ‘O’ The Times off by heart! Their language skills really came on during my time there... even if they did tend to spell “for” as “4” and “you” as “u”.

I was encouraged to sing one of Prince's songs for the school's end of year concert, a grand affair in an opera house that sat 500. I put my heart and soul into it, but the response was as non-plussed as you’d imagine watching a six foot five white man sing My Name is Prince (And I Am Funky).

I saw him live just the once. At The Hammersmith Apollo in 2001.

It was perhaps not the best time to see him. He had just become a Jehova’s Witness and excised the lewder numbers of his back catalogue for his live shows...there was no way I was going to hear Darling Nikki. Still it was incredible.

Music has always been a huge part of my life, but I can’t think of any other artist who has brought me such joy.

By Mark Edwards.