I’m afraid I’m of an age where I read the obituaries to see if another connection with my past or present has gone. Most of the time they are of somebody famous, a well-known author perhaps, whose work has influenced me, but with whom I have had no personal connection.
Occasionally, however, I come across the obituary of someone whom I have known quite well, and it comes as something of a shock. It happened again last Thursday, when I read the obituary of Margi Levy in the Guardian. I knew Margi back in the 1970s. She was warm, funny, passionate and intelligent. I met her via a mutual friend, Len Curran. He was a great one for having parties, and I would often see Margi at one of these affairs, where wine and good conversation would flow freely. I still have a photo of a picnic that the three of us (and two other friends) had in August 1974 in Windsor Great Park. The photo is of Len and Margi sharing a joke, and Margi has the same broad smile as in the photo that accompanies her obituary.
We became geographically separated in the 1980s – I moved to the Netherlands, Margi moved to Australia, and I lost touch with her. Alas, both Len and Margi are now gone, but their memories will remain for a while with me. I thank them for the time we shared.