I had one of those disconcerting and bewildering experiences last night. I awoke in the small hours and trotted off to the bog for a whizz. One does this on auto-pilot of course - not quite sleeping, not quite awake, but in that marshmallowy hinterland between the real and the imagined. I have the radio going all night as a matter of course, and just as I resumed my station in the nuptial bed the news broke that Robin Williams had been found dead.
My head started whirling as I tried to process the information. Luckily, I quickly fell asleep again, and this morning couldn't be sure if it were true. It was of course. Shock. I didn't care for Robin Williams' films for the most part. The World According to Garp was wonderful, but other than that, I thought they were ill-disciplined star-vehicles. However, that is not to detract from Williams' talent. I loved Mork & Mindy when I was a child, absolutely loved it. He spoke to me via that character in a very direct and fundamental way - in a way that I hadn't fully appreciated until I heard of his death. What an extraordinary life that is, to be able to move millions of impressionable minds in the that benign and joyful way.
It's particularly painful to reflect then that this man, whose work spread such happiness, was himself deeply unhappy. He must have been in an extraordinary amount of pain to act as he did. Goodbye, Robin. And thank-you.
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