I think it’s how people remember you when you are no longer
there that is the measure of a person and their life. The talk around the
teacups after the funeral can be very revealing, even moreso the things that are
left unsaid.
I listened on the radio to the tributes to Terry Wogan last
week. It seems that he was universally loved by just about everyone who had
anything to do with him. It’s hard to believe that he was as nice as people say
he was, but although it is hard to believe I for one believe it.
You just had
to listen to the man’s radio show to know that here was a truly good humoured,
kind, and pleasant natured person. Oh, you could hear the devil in him
sometimes but it wasn’t a malevolent devil, it was more a mischievous imp. His
voice oozed sincerity, his eyes were always twinkling and you knew that he was
usually smiling even though you couldn’t see him on the radio. I can even
forgive him The Floral Dance these days, seeing it for what it is, just a bit
of fun and not a serious attempt at pop stardom. It makes me smile anyway.
Sir Terry Wogan should be made a saint. No I’m serious. He
seems to have bought more joy and peace to so many people just by talking happy
nonsense in the mornings. He even made me laugh out loud and if that isn’t a
miracle then I don’t know what is - and then of course there was his charity
work. I’m sure that Terry had his moments. He must have got angry occasionally, had a few dark
thoughts, maybe even got a bit down sometimes, but if he did he didn’t let it
show and I certainly haven’t read or heard about it. The closest I remember Sir Terry 'having a go' was when he presented Eurovision - he was a genius with the cutting comment.
Odd isn’t it? I never met Terry Wogan, nor did I watch his
TV shows and I came to Radio 2 in his second incarnation as the breakfast show
presenter, but even so I feel this genuine warmth for him and absolutely know
that with his passing that we all lost a special friend. Yes, I know it’s
corny, but it’s also true. He did feel like a friend as I drove to Scarborough
for yet another pointless meeting. He kept me company and entertained me with
his drivel, and what special drivel it was. I never really thought of myself as
a TOG, but I guess I was all along.
No comments:
Post a Comment