Losing a childhood heroine was quite enough for one day, thank you very much. When I was 10, I loved Charlie's Angels. I had all the dolls, and ironically for the peace loving hippy I eventually became, spent huge amounts of time hiding behind corners with pretend guns as my friends and I made up new adventures for Sabrina, Jill and Kelly around the streets of Inverness. In subsequent years I watched as she tackled challenging roles, particularly in the terrifying and chilling Extremities where she played a victim of rape who ultimately overpowered her attacker and Small Sacrifices where she played a mother who shot her children.
I hadn't felt at all well yesterday and had been in bed until around 8pm. I got up and spent some time with Anna and was just about to go back to bed when I noticed on Twitter that there were rumours going round that Michael Jackson had been taken to hospital after reportedly suffering a cardiac arrest. I remember one of the Lib Dem Voice people, I think it was Rob Fenwick, making a comment about how ridiculous it was that Sky News were making a fuss about a report on one website. I wish he'd been right.
Rather than sensibly go to bed, I sat up until midnight until the news of Jackson's death had been confirmed, chatting away with people on Facebook and Twitter like you do these days. I'm going to write more about all of this later, but whatever the controversies and the flaws, his music was revolutionary, innovative, and fantastic, combined with the most amazing and brilliant dance moves. Who's ever going to top the Moonwalk? In the end of the day, as Paul Gambaccini said on BBC Breakfast, it's all about the music. In years to come everything else will be a side story and it'll be the music that people will remember first.
A childhood heroine and the musical icon of my teenage years and beyond. In one day. Sad times.
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