A letter to a friend: between a breath and a breath.

Walking up the hill with thoughts of a friend deep in mind. I wanted to write to her, so she would know I was thinking of her. I decided to do a blog post, so her family could read it to her.

I wanted to show her the narrow path to the top of the hill between the two high hedge banks.

I wanted to show her the toadflax on the bank, a delicate yellow, a wild snap-dragon. She loved flowers. The grass flowers heads were beautiful against the clear blue morning sky.

I sat for a while in the long grass, wet with dew, Ivy close beside me, thinking, remembering. there were so many small lives in the long grass. Everywhere there were butterflies.

I thought about all the times we had sat and talked, about writing, about life. I thought about how strangers become friends.

It was Anji Baker who introduced us. Anji knew I was going to Art in Action and Judy lived close by. She suggested that I stayed with Jude while working at Art in Action, and so began a yearly ritual that involved Bloody Marys and prosecco, hard work, art, late night talkings of words and wonders. They were mostly conversations of craft, but I loved to turn the talk to her early life, hear how John Peel had bought her an autoharp, how Brian Patten had sat on her bed reading her poems, places she had been, songs she had sung. She would play me music, at all the various stages and best of all there were times when I would be somewhere in the house and I would just hear her singing. Love, loss, longing, loneliness, dogs, art, music, life. And laughter. We shared that too.

Ivy didn’t need words. When I left Ivy with Judy I returned to find that Ivy had brain-washed Judy into feeding her sausages on demand, just with a look from her dark rimmed eyes. And there were always elegant long-dogs, quiet companions.

I wanted to show her the flowers. Did I say that already? She loved flowers, and her garden, crazy with crystals.

So I thought I would write a blog post, a letter to a friend, and maybe her family could read it to her. One visitor. She was allowed one. But her breath was so short and painful that talking was hard. And hospital visiting is hard as you don’t know what to say. I did so much of that this year.

On the hill there was peace in the sun and the kindness of creatures. And I did not know then that moments before, as I sat in the field, she had died.

We spent many evenings talking. As I criss-crossed the country whenever we were close we often found a harbour in her home. Always welcome, even when she knew she had a growing tumour that was stealing away the last of her breath. Conversations that circled the breath of life, the spaces between, and after the wonderful few days spent in Oxford working with the Modern Faeries we both became fascinated with the phrase ‘Between a Breath and a Breath’. This grew from something that happened in Oxford- that a between a breath and a breath in the land of the Gray Folk could be 100 years in our world. She wrote lyrics and David Longdon set this to music. Back homeI wrote some things, more notes than anything firm, but also a story that lives beneath a cover, in the special edition of The Unwinding.

Working with David Longdon of Big Big Train music grew from words. I had also talked with Judy about my Aunty Win, whom I loved very much. I told her how, towards the end of her life Aunty Win lost her words, so that she could only whisper, and Jude wrapped up our conversation into a song. This is a magical partnership. Judy adored David Longdon, sang with Big Big Train, and this album meant the world to her. She’d spent her life in music, raised her two children, been deeply in love with her husband, and missed him so much that when she talked of him I could see him there beside her. And she loved Sarah Ewing also, who made the wonderful cover of the album. Most of all her children Dan and Stephanie, the Lightening Child, and all her grandchildren. They were all that kept her alive those last days before it all became too much.

I’m thankful for the time I had with my friend. There are times when words aren’t enough, then music sometimes takes over. You can read about Judy’s life. She did so many things, sang so many songs.