The Sunday Post: Elegy
I deeply mourn the passing of my dear friend, Juliette, who left us just after Christmas.
Some years ago, when I was in the midst of self-doubt, loneliness and misery, I would thrash about a bit on the now nearly ubiquitous Twitter, sometimes playfully, as a form of antithesis to my bleak mood, and sometimes railing at my perceived unhappy circumstances. And by some glad chance I established a conversation or two with the formidable, creative and esoteric mind that was known to the Twitter-sphere and, as I was to discover, to the literary community as @VenusDeMileage.
I may not have the finest mind of my generation, but I am not without some insight, I hope. From my working class background in a run down northern town I was awarded a scholarship (in history, as it happens) to particularly intellectually stringent Cambridge College. There are indeed degrees of rigour within that institution, which, as such, does not really exist: it is a merely a collection of colleges. I mention that not out of hubris, but as a sort of indication that I can walk and talk at the same time. In fact, a rather better reference would be that our founding editor, Anna Raccoon, gave me liberty to write for her, and our new landlord Petunia the same. That is, let me tell you, one hell of a compliment. I am, by nature, a truth sayer. I find the selfish lies and half-truths and “spin” of politicians and the like vapid, pathetic, and weak. I am by my nature a harsh critic, intolerant of fools, and some would say cold.
So when I say “formidable”, I mean it. I rarely use that word.
Her talent for prose and extraordinary mind were way beyond my own understanding: wild, eccentric, dangerous and sharp. I admired her greatly. Can you express greatness of mind in 140 characters? Yes, you can.
One Sunday evening when I was I despair “Venus” (as I knew her then) picked up on my mood and offered to call me. I was nervous and in awe, but I agreed. So I gave her my number, and we talked. It was soon apparent that she was one of the kindest, most generous and gifted souls that have ever walked this Sceptered Isle. I have never forgotten that evening.
Later that year, I travelled from my Northern eyrie to London, to meet Venus/Juliette in person. On a Friday afternoon I rolled down the motorway in my monk mobile, a sedate Volvo estate. She had asked me to meet her, for reasons I never enquired about, at her mother’s house in a leafy Chingford suburb. I booked a room at a local B & B, and walked to the due address. Do you know, I have a poor memory for most things in life? Most of it is too dull, and too predictable. But I have a very strong memory of that evening, including the awful London traffic. I remember the details of the B & B. I remember getting lost on the walk to her mother’s house, and meeting Juliette for the first time. She was indeed, as dramatic as her Twitter Avatar suggested; a Gothic, extraordinary presence. I am sure I provided a less impressive presence, a somewhat battered soul.
I still treasure the memories of that weekend. It was psychological nourishment at a time of psychological and emotional famine. Juliette was exceptionally kind, and so was her mother, the very lovely Jill. Nothing was too much trouble. They put up with my boorish ways.
Wine was taken, and I felt human again.
Fish and chips were delivered, and I felt human again.
Fun and wine were had in the beautiful back garden, and I felt human again.
There are many memories of that weekend, before I trundled back up the motorway to my northern fastness. One or two are these. First, it turned out Juliette’s mother Jill had been a “Windmill Girl” in the sixties. If you don’t know what that means, you will have to Google it, but it means she was (and, as far as I am concerned, is) the business. Knock-your-socks-off gorgeous, and still is.
Second, Juliette’s family have a well researched family “bible” which their ancestry back into Medieval France, and a particular châteaux, now owned by a rather secretive “charity”. The book was hugely impressive and thorough, more than 500 pages long. We spent an evening looking through this, and as a historian, I found it fascinating. There are photographs of a crypt, for example, which show a strange cutting in the floor, with others leading off it. A mysterious photograph, but I developed a theory about it, and I think it is correct. Someone had deposited a sarcophagus there, with poles ready to pick it up and move it at speed, if need be. Now, what was all that about?
There are more memories, but that is enough.
I was never to see my friend again. I went back north, feeling I had been a dullard and disappointed her. But my good opinion is not given lightly, and does not depend on anyone else’s opinion.
In the past couple of years, life had been quite tough for Juliette. She produced astonishing books which I did not fully understand, but I could see the incredible power and force of her words.
One was:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cupids-Scythe-Venus-De-Mileage/dp/1499698941
Her latest was a collaboration with her mother, a history of the Windmill Theatre
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Remembering-Revudeville-Souvenir-Windmill-Theatre/dp/0992869609
But she got sick with some sort of arthritic illness, and that caused her great problems. I have seen a picture of Juliette in her youth, and I have to say: Gina Lollobrigida has a double!
Let me put it simply, in a few words
I have no time for most people in this world, apart from Raccoonistas! Can a person whom you have met for a weekend affect your life? Yes. Just a minute in their company can. The beautiful, brilliant, troublesome and very, very good person who was Venus was proof of that.
I am told by her mother that she had some premonition of leaving us. I can believe that. I will only add this. Before she left, I had the chance to repay her kindness. I am glad I did.
I miss you, Juliette Shapiro.
Gildas the Monk
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January 25, 2015 at 12:40 pm -
Great Post Gildas …I speculate that we both may prefer the company of intelligent women to any other…..if you have some moments free and have not already read it you might enjoy ‘The Consolation of Philosophy’ by Boethius and in particular the part played in it by Sophia
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January 26, 2015 at 1:58 pm -
Dear Gildas, something else you might enjoy !
On the bbc website, click radio, R3, programmes, composer of the week, Orland de Lassus. I’m ashamed to say I had never heard of him before, but it’s wonderful stuff and one episode features your favourites, the Hillyard Ensemble, performing one of his works.
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January 25, 2015 at 12:46 pm -
” feeling I had been a dullard and disappointed her”
I know THAT feeling having recently met a famous but elderly blogger whom I admire greatly.
Gildas, I don’t know if or what sort of Afterlife you believe in (personally I don’t, we will ALL , good and evil, be resurrected to live in Paradise) but whatever form of Heaven you subscribe to, I reckon Juliette is wandering around in a celestial daze- her harp having hit the cloud along with her ethereal jaw when she read : “Can you express greatness of mind in 140 characters? Yes, you can.” That, along with the rest of your post, is a eulogy she can take to the Day Of Judgement (if again you believe in such a thing, I don’t), an e-tombstone inscription that will lighten her side of the scales in the Hall Of Maat.
I reckon you’ve done her proud, lad- to put it in your Northern vernacular.
PS. I’d be fascinated to see a photo of that strange crypt floor cutting, perhaps as the basis for a later Gildas On Sunday post where you expound upon your theory?
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January 25, 2015 at 2:43 pm -
Thank you BD. I have a very open mind on the subject of what happens when we depart, but somehow I know she is happy and at peace. As for the cutting in the crypt, it was rectangular, several inches deep and with with 4 identical extra cuttings at each of the corners a foot or so long and several inches wide. To my mind, this was a resting place for a sarcophagus which was mounted on poles so that it could be picked up and transported at need. And that, to my mind, points to either a Saint or a Royal person, or possibly someone who was both. If that is correct, then who?
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January 25, 2015 at 5:09 pm -
On second thoughts you might want NOT to publish a post about it. Any historical ‘mystery’ with the words ‘France’, ‘crypt’, ‘sarcophagus’ will draw in the Rennes-le-Château crowd and “Je suis Jacques De Molay” fanboys. *wonders when the first ‘This Is What A Knight Templar Looks Like’ T-shirt will appear? From your description I assume the cutting is at least man-sized in length so I can see why you’d think ‘sarcophagus’ -in a crypt that has to be an option- but perhaps it was really the final resting place of The Ark Of The Covenant ? (just kidding!).
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January 27, 2015 at 4:23 pm -
I agree
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January 25, 2015 at 12:54 pm -
Thanks for sharing that incident in your life, painted with so carefully-chosen words.
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January 25, 2015 at 1:24 pm -
Thank you. There was so much more I wanted to say but I dried up. We kept in touch by e mail and twitter, and we had spoken last year about possibly publishing a children’s book I had written, but illness interrupted the plan. She was a remarkable soul. She seems to have some sort of premonition of her passing, but wherever she is now she is in celestial glory in some form, imperious and free. Rest in peace, dear Juliette
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January 25, 2015 at 1:58 pm -
Commiserations. A fine tribute.
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January 25, 2015 at 2:32 pm -
January 25, 2015 at 6:27 pm -
Juliette sounds a delightful if eccentric character and I am glad she was there for you at a dark time. I do sometimes wonder if certain people are ‘sent’ to us in an hour of need. When I was on a Cancer forum once a post just caught my eye, quite a young woman and her Cancer was found at an early stage so excellent prognosis but her fear and desperation came through and I started to write to her. She was in a very dark place and I listened, gave some advice if asked and made her laugh, she said I brought her back. Last spring I flew to Canada to meet her and had a wonderful time with her and her husband. I am glad you had the pleasure of meeting Juliette and she will stay with you always.
Carol-
January 25, 2015 at 6:40 pm -
I firmly believe you are correct, Carol, in your wonderings that certain people are sent to us in our hour of need. It’s happened to me this past year.
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January 25, 2015 at 6:56 pm -
I agree too. It seems to be how it is.
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January 25, 2015 at 7:01 pm -
Scripture refers to such people as ‘Angels’.
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January 25, 2015 at 6:28 pm -
Forgot to tick the box again.
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January 25, 2015 at 7:11 pm -
Never thought of myself as an angel! But something about her post made me feel I had to respond, can’t explain it but I knew she needed help and I had to offer it. Although she is well now she emails as soon as the dark mood starts again and we hope to meet again this year if my cat with dementia allows me to travel!
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January 25, 2015 at 7:18 pm -
A beautiful tribute!
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January 25, 2015 at 7:42 pm -
Wonderful tribute – and how good you were given the opportunity to meet before her untimely passing.
That (and this ‘network’) is the upside of the internet – in this crazy world we somehow manage to connect with like-minded souls, often when everyone else around us are becoming more and more alien-
January 25, 2015 at 9:22 pm -
It is significant that, despite the darker edges of this global cobweb, the linking of Gildas with Juliette, just like Carol42 with her new Canadian friend, and indeed all of us here, could only ever have happened courtesy of the magical digital environment. That so many positives have come from such otherwise impossible connections will probably always remain in its unreported credit-list, whilst the debits will continue to be trumpeted loudly by the Daily Fail et al.
Good on you, Gildas and Carol42, for making such creative human and humane use of this modern magic, tinged with sympathies to Gildas for the sad loss of a valued and like-minded soul.
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January 26, 2015 at 2:43 am -
I must agree. Occasionally on this blog I read something I disagree with but I am always impressed with the quality of the comments . Always well argued and intelligently debated , always informative too with comments from well informed people who often speak from experience. There is none of the ranting so often seen on supposedly serious magazines like the Spectator which end up sounding like school children tit for tat. As for the comments section of newspapers ! I don’t even read them now, especially given that they delete comments that don’t agree with their viewpoint. Definitely my favourite blog.
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January 25, 2015 at 7:49 pm -
Bless you, Gildas. A most poignant eulogy.
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January 27, 2015 at 10:19 am -
Wonderful tribute Gildas and thank you.
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