I learnt *by accident* today on Facebook that one of my best friend’s had died, Judith Williamson who wrote under the moniker of JL Fontaine.

I’m sitting here gazing at the Alps wondering what the bloody hell I should say.  What I can say? I have this sense of homesickness that started when my mother died and has pervaded ever since.  It is increased now Judith is gone.  We would discuss the many roles that we played for each other.  Mother, sister, friend, priest!

Anyway – this if for her.  I think she’d like it.  God Bless, darling.  See you in about 25 years if I’m lucky.

Judith

There is a star outside the window

It might be you.

The whiskey is speaking in tongues again

Warming my stomach while life goes on

The Beagle snores

and my heart is sick and tired because

you have gone.

The heart of darkness we called it. A continent that

confused and hurt you. Empathy made things harder

there, so you tried to cut it off. And it made everything worse.

So we’d say, ‘At least its not Gaza’. For perspective.

And all those ‘dolly-boys’ you fancied are saying such loving

Things about you. And your roaring tide, Jude, that passion flows about us still.

This grief is a punch to the throat, I’m trying that hard not

to cry. I can’t even read with my boy because I want you.

Not Beast Quest V, which, I’m sure is very good. But its not

you, is it. Although, you ‘d guffaw and exclaim otherwise.

You words are here. Your last message ‘I feel so much better’.

Then you died. That would have made you laugh.

A slightly noir flavour.

There is a star outside the window

It better bloody be you.