2016 was a year full of celebrity deaths. Beginning with David Bowie and ending with George Michael. I wept for both and in between I wept for Victoria Wood. I can remember, when I was younger, some conversations between my parents. One or the other lifted their face from the newspaper to announce that ‘so-and-so died’ and there would be an exchange of commiserations and sadness. And I wouldn’t know who ‘so and so’ was. But as I’ve aged and the people that have meant a great deal to me culturally have begun to age and die it continues to strike me how curious is the sense of bereavement one feels from somebody you’ve never met. I was never an especial David Bowie fan but I was aware of his influence and the pioneering nature of his art. And I did feel a great sense of loss when I learned of his death. But I did always love George Michael. In fact seeing him live was one of the greatest performances I’ve experienced. Being just a few feet away from the man singing “Careless Whisper” still raises the hairs on my neck. But somehow the death of Victoria Wood touched me deeply. And I’m not sure why. Her wit delighted me, her way with words. Her perception and rendering of the ordinary and the every day into something funny, and the fact that she acknowledged things that you thought maybe nobody else saw in the same way that you did forged some kind of invisible bond. Being on the same wavelength maybe.
I didn’t read the biography her brother wrote. I believe there was some kind of hoohah about it. People were criticising him for exposing, perhaps details that were a little too personal. But something drew me to Jasper Rees’s authorised book. I found it to be a thorough and expansive account of Victoria Wood’s life. Much is taken from her own recordings, letters and interviews. And there are numerous contributions from those who knew her, including her closest family. So I kinda felt I was getting the real story. And I found it interesting. I admired her work ethic. You watch a TV show or one of her dramas or series without realising just how much she put into it. And I learnt a little of the person that she was behind the TV and showbiz persona. And I think part of the appeal was her “ordinariness”. It somehow made her more real than some of the glitzy, glamorous showbiz people out there.
And still I cried when I got to the section about her illness and her death. Did I think that by reading a biography it would keep her alive? No, that would be silly. But I still have this sense of loss when I think of Victoria Wood. She made me laugh. Out loud. I’d like to laugh again. Out loud. I often ponder how she would’ve dealt with coronavirus and the pandemic. I have little doubt there would be songs and piercingly witty observations about the situation that might take us out of ourselves for a while. But that’s often what a good comic does. Takes you right out of yourself so you can relax and laugh. I actually think Victoria Wood was something close to a genius. A genius in terms of comedy. Or maybe we’re back to just being on the same wavelength. I mean these absolutely kill me - Kimberly’s friend tried to teach herself Flemish, ‘in case I ever go to Flem.’ ‘Vauxhall Viagra’ is another. “I knew I was getting old when I saw a pair of Dr. Scholl sandals and I thought. ooh, they look comfy.” And of course the Barry and Freda song. It is genius. I remember watching it on TV the first time she performed it and I was crying with laughter.
I miss her.
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