As was said before, Ian Stewart never made one move of payback to Andrew Loog Oldham for what had happenend back in 1963. But he could have done it...or couldn't he? Here's a little bit more from Andrew Oldham, just to finish off the story.
One day in the early 70s I was staying with Cynthia at the Ealing house she shared with Stu for a day and a half between flights. Cynthia was out. I was in their kitchen brewing coffee when in walked Stu, back from a morning of golf with Glyn Johns. We'd never been alone in a room and we both attempted to warm above the cutting edge. I nursed my coffee, and we small-talked. I kept thinking, Christ, if Stu ever wanted to beat the shit out of me, here was his big moment.
No Reg the Butcher, no weapon, no sturdy steel-tipped shoes. My elegant monographed suede slippers left me less than the tea leaf gangster Chris Stamp had so fondly labelled me, and my paisley morning jacket probably invited a bashing from the likes of the golf-clad Stu. Nothing happened. We chatted on and I noticed for the first time the wonderful warmth and soul that smiled through his eyes. That morning in his and Cynthia's kitchen I stood and talked with a good-looking man named Ian Stewart. We closed the cycle and we knew where we stood with each other.
I realised that day, and forgot until I cleared up my mind, that Stu knew all along what I was about and what I had done; and finally he knew, better than anyone, and took to his grave, what everybody else had not done about it. Now, Cynthia has told me that this exchange I've recalled as taking place between us never happened, and that I've dreamt it up. So be it; I've just given you the truth of my recall.
Adapted from the following source: Andrew Loog Oldham, 2Stoned, Vintage, 2003.