On Monday morning, at one minute past seven my sister sent me a message to say David Bowie had died. I rubbed my eyes and focused and thought 'Don't be so ridiculous, Bowie? never, ever ever' I turned over and tried to get back to sleep but I couldn't. Bowie? no, I'm not having that. He's been my favourite since I was 7 years old. I checked Twitter, then checked the news and it had happened, it was really true and I was devastated. I've grown up with him, I love him, I've seen him sing to just me so this was too much. Why was I so sad? Why did I feel so wretched?
The first time I knew he was one for me was when he introduced The Snowman.
I believed him that he was a real snowman, I believed he got given that scarf and I believed he was the boy it happened to. Then Labyrinth, where I still lived in hope up until last week that if I said those words he would appear at my window. I've written to him, he has been my soundtrack on so many holidays, day trips, breakups, nights out and early morning home times. He is a big part of my life in so many ways and I just didn't get it.
It's ridiculous, I didn't know him personally I've never met him and to be genuinely upset I thought was quite silly, but 'no' I kept saying. As the morning went on I got ready for work and put my lightening bolt earrings in. I listened to Low in the car and felt really sad. I felt sad all day, as if I couldn't mention the real reason why. On the way home I listened to Young Americans and felt better and then put Magic Dance on and recited all of the words with the car window down to anybody who would care to listen. I spent the rest of the night watching Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence and I cried. Why?
Isn't it odd that people we like in other worlds affect us so much. Maybe it's nostalgia and the places we were when we first heard their music or just as they allow us to be what we want, no apologies. Asking for Let's Dance in a club and watching who gets it and dances with you was always the best. Bowie lovers united.
I was lucky enough to see him at Glastonbury in 2000 and I couldn't believe it was happening. I stood there for hours waiting making sure I got a good place and shouted when he came on stage ' It's really you isn't it!' I was 18, very tired and stinky and felt so overwhelmed until I turned to the crowd around me and saw how in awe everybody was, tears, smiles and just amazement that we were there seeing him on stage in front of us. It really was him. It was magic.
My last car was called David as he was pearly green with a changeable attitude. He always did what he liked, turned off CDs I put on, wouldn't start if he didn't want to and once got us stuck in sand dune. One day after a few perilous weeks he ceremoniously dumped me outside of my house. No warning just decided enough was enough, no starting or explanation only that he had to go his own way. I had been Bowied and I didn't expect anything less.
Everybody I've spoke to about his death says the same, that they just don't believe it, that it was news they never comprehended hearing like he was immortal or something. A girl I used to work with loved him as much as me and she had seen him over five times, following him all over the place. I always loved the excitement of finding someone who was a Bowie fan, who knew it and loved it. We would spend ages talking about him and his music on our tea breaks. I thought of her on Monday and I knew that The Glass Spider tour DVD would be on repeat in her house for days to come.
Tuesday would have been my sister Alison's 42nd birthday and when we went out Modern Love was our song. I spent her birthday evening watching Labyrinth for what must be the 1000th time and I still wait for the end scene at which every time I say 'Yes, Jareth! I will!' Tomorrow night my friend and I are going to a Bowie night where we shall dance and sway through the crowd to an empty space. It's what he would have wanted. After all....I know when to go out, I know when to stay in.... Get things done.