The last few months have been devoid of music and there have been no words to adequately explain the devastating loss felt by myself & my family at the inexplicable death of my sister's son, my funny, fit & healthy nephew james, aged 18 years old.'Dance happy' had no meaning, as we struggled to find a way to make sense of a world that can take someone as beloved as our James, without warning.
I cancelled all the gigs that I had planned to go to and music, a constant backdrop to my life, was switched off.
I would like to thank the people that held me up; the patient, quiet people who knew that I would turn the music on again one day. It was my great friend and drinking partner of old, Jolyon Roberts, who took me out into the world to see Billy Bragg at The Union Chapel. I remember too little of the night to attempt to review it, but I was there and it felt safe and beautiful and I will always be grateful.
Seal and Duran Duran at the O2 was too much too soon, the people, the noise, the palpable stench of peri-menopausal hormones scared me. It was so extreme that its exuberance shut me out. So despite earning the nickname 'Princess Di' from my brother in law in my teens for our shared love of the Duran boys, I couldn't stay long and only Wild Boys raised a smile.
It's still one day at a time, but slowly I'm letting the music back in, my daughter fills the house with music and sometime I even sing along. It's not over.
Love, like music, never dies.
