Rest in Peace

No vitriol today; no hatred, bile or anger. I just want to take a moment to reflect on some of the people we’ve lost this year.

Peaches Geldof: So much was made of the fact that she had taken drugs in her earlier life. Then there was all the stuff about her mother, Paula Yates, committing suicide. But none of that was even the slightest bit relevant. The simple fact was – and the only thing that needs to be discussed in public is – a young woman died much too early. A wife and devoted mother was taken away, leaving two young children who’ve been robbed of someone who quite clearly doted on them.

Robin Williams: Who would have thought that behind that frenetic, quick-witted funny-man was a human being who was hurting? I’ve been a fan of Robin Williams since the days of Mork and Mindy. I used to have a couple of his stand-up videos. Good Morning Vietnam is one of my favourite movies. Looking at his career, you can see what a talented, naturally-gifted comedic talent he was. He was like a big ball of energy whose improvisational skills were un-matched. He made it so easy to forget that behind it all, he was just a man; a normal human being with all the frailties inherent in our poorly-constructed lives. I live with clinical depression myself, and I know how low you can get; I’ve stood on the edge of the abyss many times in my life. You’d think I could identify a fellow sufferer. But the thing about clinical depression is that the taboos surrounding it are still so prevalent that you quickly learn how to hide it. You learn how to wear the mask of other people’s expectations. One day it might be the strong, loving father providing the bedrock for his children to live their lives. Another day, it might be the friend who’s always got a smile and a joke for you. In this case, it was the Robin Williams who was bursting with energy and could always make you laugh. But behind the mask was Robin McLaurin Williams, born in Chicago, Illinois, who found himself in a dark place, and this time he couldn’t pull himself out of it.

Rik Mayall: This is the one that hit me the hardest. I’m of the generation who grew up watching Kevin Turvey; The Dangerous Brothers; The Young Ones; Filthy, Rich and Catflap; Blackadder; The New Statesman; and Bottom. Rik Mayall was a huge presence in my generation’s formative years. The Young Ones in particular was a show that we never missed. It was a show that typified all that was good (and sometimes bad) in Britain at that time. It was edgy, anarchic, silly, satirical, but above all, just about the best thing on television. When my children were old enough, I introduced them to this cultural crown jewel; and to this day, we can all quote huge swathes of dialogue verbatim. Rik’s poems are some of our favourites, and we can all recite them, like a sing-song, word-perfect. Then there’s Bottom – just thinking about it floods my mind with favourite episodes, lines, characters, situations. This was another one I introduced my kids to and it became something we watched almost religiously. I think that’s why Rik Mayall was such a big part of my life, and why it left such a hole when he died; his work brought my children and I together like nothing else. It was the common ground we could always rely on even when we disagreed on everything else. It was the bridge between my generation and theirs. It still is, of course; but it’s slightly different now; it brings a hint of sadness with it now. Anyway, I will give my own tribute to Rik by quoting a piece of his work:”Pollution; all around. Sometimes up, and sometimes down. Pollution, are you coming to my town, or am I coming to yours? Hah; we’re on different buses pollution, but we’re both using petrol…bombs.”

So that’s just a short goodbye to three people who left us way too soon this year. I hope and pray that I’m not saying goodbye to more next year.

Peaches, Robin and Rik – you each made the world a little better with your presence. Thanks for that.