I was saddened to hear yesterday of the death of the poet Pat Fox in Dundee. She was 81. She attended my Poetry in Practice classes at Edinburgh University from 1995 until 2007 and became a good friend and confidante. I believe she only took up writing in her sixties but did so with great enthusiasm and ever-increasing skill.
As well as doing readings of her work she several times won runner-up diplomas in the UK section of the Scottish International Open Poetry Competition (which could draw up to 3,000 entries). She published two collections, Let Me Tell You About My Last Love and Memories of Rain.
Let me tell you about my last love
Off he went with bag and badinage,
(that wild crack about a misspent age).
I wondered if he were the last,
but I have not missed him.
At first, some once or twice a year,
I reached the empty space he used to fill.
Now, not even that.
I can imagine a fond relationship
involving a common love of gardening, say,
and French films.
But I do not think I'd want to risk now
failure by arthritis;
the need to shout me tenderest remarks;
an untimely desire for sleep.
So no, I do not want you as my next last love.
I have difficulty in remembering your name
between each meeting at the supermarket.
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Like you, Jim, I'm sorry to learn (through your blog) of Pat's death. I met her a couple of times, liked her very much as a person, and liked her poetry too. Somewhere on my shelves is a copy of Memories of Rain. I must refresh my memory of her work.
ReplyDeleteI too was very fond of Pat, who inherited a cat of mine and gave him a wonderful life in Stockbridge. She was a tremendously lively person, to whom you could talk about anything though we mostly talked about books, and sometimes - not overmuch - the cat, whom she'd renamed Declan (a great improvement on 'Patch', his original but not very original name). I have missed her, and was away when she died. I would love to have seen her again. And yes, I too was impressed by her seriousness about her poetry, and the wit of many of her poems.
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