Foolish things we say to cats, vol 17, ch 3:

[desperance]

"Oy. You do not want to eat my spice loaf."

Ridiculous. Of course he wants to eat my spice loaf; it's what this particular iteration of his many lives is dedicated to. It is, as Claud Cockburn said in another context, sole purpose of visit.

I knew Claud Cockburn's daughter, Sarah Caudwell the crime novelist; we were friends in that haphazard way that you can be when you meet as adults, spending hours blowing smoke at each other across a bottle or two of club claret and then not meeting, not speaking again for months or longer. She was, you will be pleased to learn, unique, as her books are: eccentric and unmissable, full of words, very much missed.

Comments

[rozk.livejournal.com]

I only met Sarah a couple of times and yes, she was as delightful as her books. She fell into the category of people I meant to get to know and put aside for later, a later she didn't have and we should never rely on.

Oddly, there are photos of us talking, so this quite casual acquaintance got recorded in a way that deeper friendships don't neccessarily.

[szandara.livejournal.com]

I adore Sarah Caudwell, and am brimming with fangirly jealousy that you knew her. She wrote like the love child of PG Wodehouse and Dorothy Sayers, two of my other favorite authors.

*is green with fangirl envy*

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Hee. She did, you are right. And was not so madly unlike them in other ways, come to think...

(There are not so many perks to this writerly life, by and large - but you do get to meet a lot of heroes. Is good.)

[desperance.livejournal.com]

PS - did you know that her mother, Jean Ross, was Isherwood's model for Sally Bowles?

[lcohen]

it's always good to learn that people whose books you like were cool people otherwise. (and sad to learn the opposite.)