a sad start


Just when I didn't think January had anything left to throw at us, I woke up to discover that Terry Wogan had lost a brief battle with cancer. The little shit (cancer that is, not Sir Terry). I am only grateful that Terry, along with David Bowie and Alan Rickman, could fight that battle privately.

Bowie will always be an icon. He made it okay to be different. He did his own thing, and did it wonderfully. To me, now, he represents all things bonkers about the seventies and eighties. But if I had been this age then, I'm pretty sure he would've been so much more than that. I would never even begin to say I was a Bowie fan - my knowledge of his music is embarrassingly limited - but there is just something about him that you can't fail to appreciate.

Harry Potter played a massive part in my childhood, and with it Alan Rickman. He was Severus Snape, the man you loved to hate. I don't really remember what my imagining of the characters was before I saw the films, but I'm fairly certain that Snape looked just like Alan. If ever there was a role created for him, it was that. He made you despise him, then made you pity him, then made you weep for him. His acting was absolutely phenomenal throughout. It hit a little hard when I found out he'd gone. 

The loss of Sir Terry Wogan is maybe the saddest of all, for me. I love the radio. I don't understand people who can go about their day without listening to it at some point. When I wake up in the morning, I am greeted by a friendly voice. I am made to laugh throughout the day at whatever amusing antics go on. I can be introduced to new and wonderful things of an evening. It may be a little sad, but I don't feel lonely when the radio is there. Those presenters become a part of your life, and it's a big deal when they go. I'm fairly certain that Terry had a big part to play in why it's such an important thing for me. I never had the telly on in the morning as a kid; whilst friends were watching Milkshake (or whatever other morning telly there was), I was listening to Sir Terry on Radio 2. When I was fifteen, he left the breakfast show. That was enormous - for my entire life until that point, he had been there every morning to wake me up and make me laugh. I had never known anything different. His incredible humour will never be forgotten; you only have to look at all those years of impeccable Eurovision commentary to appreciate just how wonderful he was. And speaking of wonderful: noone will ever forget all that he did for Children in Need. The outpouring of love for him today is, I think, proof of just how much he meant to so many people. Be it on the telly or the radio, Sir Terry was just like your granddad: fun and loveable and never boring.

This is not particularly what I would've liked my first post of the year to be, but I needed to say it. I hope 2016 gets its act together and things only move upwards from here. And, most of all, I hope that one day cancer effs right off.

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