In honour of the late songstress, I have declared next Saturday 30 July to be:
Dress Like Amy Winehouse Day
Everyone can take part, just pile on the eyeliner, backcomb your hair into a nice tall beehive and take to the streets.
I would love to see the streets of the world peopled with Amy Winehouses.
Sunday, 24 July 2011
On the deaths of famous people, and other earth shattering events
Everyone of a certain age can remember where they were when they heard about the assassination of John F Kennedy. Americans of a similar age can remember clearly the night that the Beatles first played the Ed Sullivan Show. I am not of that age, nor even close (here's a hint, I was just six months old when John Lennon was gunned down in front of his home by Central Park).
This weekend has been marred by the deaths of two British greats - one a venerable old man, the other a fragile young woman. So to mark the occasion, I present a rundown of the events which have punctuated my own life.
April 1, 1990
The death of my grandfather, AE Weightman (writer, photographer, artist and teacher)
I had been out swimming with the children of some friends of my parents, and when I returned to their house to be picked up, the mother told me 'Your granddad has gone to Heaven'. I went outside and sat on the unmade road, and cried. I remember my sister coming to talk to me.
November 24, 1991
The death of Freddie Mercury. I was ironing in the lounge at Chapel House (google streetview below). I hadn't really got into Queen yet, but I knew somehow that it was important.
View Larger Map
April 10, 1994
A little belatedly, I found out about the death of Kurt Cobain, in a Sunday supplement in the frequent travellers lounge on a P&O ferry returning from France.
January 9, 1995
The death of Peter Cook. Found out this at my grandmother's house in Wigmore, Gillingham. The next day my friend and I spent the day in mournful rebellion at school.
March 5, 1995
The death of Vivian Stanshall. Found out on Teletext at Nana's house. He'd recently been burgled, which I thought was extra super sad.
August 9, 1995
The death of Jerry Garcia. I probably wouldn't remember this, but I was in Florida staying with a family of Christians. The son came out to the pool and said 'There's good news and bad news.' I said, give me the bad news first. 'The bad news is that Jerry Garcia is dead.' And the good news? 'Dinner's ready.'
August 31, 1997
The death of Princess Diana. In the days just before the widespread internet, I was at Slimelight when a rumour started to circulate that Princess Diana had died in a car crash, and so she had. Went to Macdonalds as usual in the morning, and was relieved to hear classical music all morning in her honour, not the usual pop shite.
September 11, 2001
9/11. Lazing around chez Mr Mole when his flatmate, the beautiful Celine came in to tell us to turn on the news. A crazy day, the sheer scale of what had happened was shocking.
July 7, 2005
The 7/7 bombings. Woke up with my flatmate Jess in the room telling me what had happened. She had been on her way to work at Liverpool Street when the buses were stopped. The rest of the people carried on walking in to work. Sensibly, she turned round and got back on a bus going the other way. Her boyfriend was behind the police cordon, but was safe. They were both OK and that was literally all I cared about.
June 25, 2009
The death of Michael Jackson. Cam had been out at his weekly roleplaying and his friend had had a message about Michael when they were walking home. I woke up and the news was displayed on the projector 'Michael Jackson, King of Pop, dies at 50'.
July 22, 2011
The death of Lucien Freud. I probably wouldn't have cared so much, but was on my way to life model for a group of artists at Art's Complex, one of whom has been described as a cross between Francis Bacon and Lucien Freud. I read it on the BBC website while drinking my morning tea.
July 23, 2011
The death of Amy Winehouse. Casually glancing at the news after a visit to the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh and was stunned, not able to take it in. I so thought she was going to be OK.
The best thing I've read about Amy is this piece by Russell Brand.
Peace and Love.
This weekend has been marred by the deaths of two British greats - one a venerable old man, the other a fragile young woman. So to mark the occasion, I present a rundown of the events which have punctuated my own life.
April 1, 1990
The death of my grandfather, AE Weightman (writer, photographer, artist and teacher)
I had been out swimming with the children of some friends of my parents, and when I returned to their house to be picked up, the mother told me 'Your granddad has gone to Heaven'. I went outside and sat on the unmade road, and cried. I remember my sister coming to talk to me.
November 24, 1991
The death of Freddie Mercury. I was ironing in the lounge at Chapel House (google streetview below). I hadn't really got into Queen yet, but I knew somehow that it was important.
View Larger Map
April 10, 1994
A little belatedly, I found out about the death of Kurt Cobain, in a Sunday supplement in the frequent travellers lounge on a P&O ferry returning from France.
January 9, 1995
The death of Peter Cook. Found out this at my grandmother's house in Wigmore, Gillingham. The next day my friend and I spent the day in mournful rebellion at school.
March 5, 1995
The death of Vivian Stanshall. Found out on Teletext at Nana's house. He'd recently been burgled, which I thought was extra super sad.
August 9, 1995
The death of Jerry Garcia. I probably wouldn't remember this, but I was in Florida staying with a family of Christians. The son came out to the pool and said 'There's good news and bad news.' I said, give me the bad news first. 'The bad news is that Jerry Garcia is dead.' And the good news? 'Dinner's ready.'
August 31, 1997
The death of Princess Diana. In the days just before the widespread internet, I was at Slimelight when a rumour started to circulate that Princess Diana had died in a car crash, and so she had. Went to Macdonalds as usual in the morning, and was relieved to hear classical music all morning in her honour, not the usual pop shite.
September 11, 2001
9/11. Lazing around chez Mr Mole when his flatmate, the beautiful Celine came in to tell us to turn on the news. A crazy day, the sheer scale of what had happened was shocking.
July 7, 2005
The 7/7 bombings. Woke up with my flatmate Jess in the room telling me what had happened. She had been on her way to work at Liverpool Street when the buses were stopped. The rest of the people carried on walking in to work. Sensibly, she turned round and got back on a bus going the other way. Her boyfriend was behind the police cordon, but was safe. They were both OK and that was literally all I cared about.
June 25, 2009
The death of Michael Jackson. Cam had been out at his weekly roleplaying and his friend had had a message about Michael when they were walking home. I woke up and the news was displayed on the projector 'Michael Jackson, King of Pop, dies at 50'.
July 22, 2011
The death of Lucien Freud. I probably wouldn't have cared so much, but was on my way to life model for a group of artists at Art's Complex, one of whom has been described as a cross between Francis Bacon and Lucien Freud. I read it on the BBC website while drinking my morning tea.
July 23, 2011
The death of Amy Winehouse. Casually glancing at the news after a visit to the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh and was stunned, not able to take it in. I so thought she was going to be OK.
The best thing I've read about Amy is this piece by Russell Brand.
Peace and Love.
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