You butter and I'll slice.
(The reaction of a Victoria Wood character on hearing that a family member had died.)
|Victoria Wood (wikipedia)|
But none of the deaths has saddened me as much as that of Victoria Wood.
I walked into an empty room the other day. The television was on with its sound turned down. Across the screen was a red banner, reading: Victoria Wood dead.
I stopped in mid-stride. I yelled the news aloud. From a distant corner of the house came an answering squawk of dismay. In fact, my whole family will be squawking. They all, man and woman, old and young, loved Victoria Wood.
I saw her perform live in Birmingham early in her career, without really knowing who she was. But I laughed.
Then I started seeing her on television, at a time when it was still commonly said that 'women can't be funny.' She single-handedly proved that canard to be a right load of old...
She was a brilliant writer, a superb observer and listener, writing an abundance of terrific parts for both men and women, but especially for women.
I loved her for herself, and I love her because a fond memory is of my dad laughing until he cried at her 'Ballad of Barry and Freda.' (Otherwise known as 'Let's Do It' or 'bend me over backwards on me hostess trolley.'
But however I go on, I can't write a better appreciation than this by the Guardian's Lucy Mangan, so I'll leave you with that.