The Exchange Theatre was packed when all music-loving Ashford came to pay tribute to English-Russian pianist Mark Hambourg. There he was, a charismatic figure with his high forehead, his mane of dark hair brushed back, his huge horn-rimmed glasses and his decided chin. Late-comers do not meet with Hambourg’s approval. He pauses, perhaps, strikes a few chords off the piano, and stares decided irritation at the cause of any noise.