This post is a tribute to a committed environmentalist, animal rights campaigner, auto-didact, lifecoach, bon viveur and epicurean, who was exceptional in these fields, amongst many others. Let us first consider the extreme dedication to the cause of recycling. For some time now, most of us have been retrained to separate before putting out our rubbish, possibly even going to the extra trouble of rinsing bottles and cans, and squashing down cardboard boxes. This is all to the greater good of less waste ending up in the landfill. This individual went further, much further. She recognised that much of what remained in the so-called “household” garbage was susceptible to greater reduction and more radical precycling, ie. that by passing it one more time through a digestive tract, after intensive mastication, it could be more thoroughly diminished. In this way, she effectively and efficiently took it upon herself to concentrate the contents of our bins, going through this arduous process often several times, before she was satisfied that the few remaining scraps were indeed, inedible. Then, and only then, would she desist from her endeavours.
Her love of books commenced at a very early age when she ingested several tomes from the canon, the Oxford Companion to English Literature being a firm favourite and much ruminated over. Alberto Manguel’s A History of Reading was manna for her soul, as was David Marr’s biography of Patrick White, Richard Ellman’s of James Joyce and Oscar Wilde and Hermione Lee’s of Virginia Woolf. It was clear she had a preference for hardbacks and the lives of writers. However, this is in no way to imply that she turned her nose up at slimmer volumes, and poetry, playscripts, even, playfully, pamphlets on pet-training, were all as avidly consumed. “Eat my words” was a mantra she lived by, whether the author be an auteur or an amateur.
This aptitude for open-mindedness extended to social interaction. She was not a one to judge, take sides, discriminate or dislike. As a sportsmanlike personality she believed in fair play and if this entailed rigorous refereeing, to the necessity of having to remove the ball or shuttlecock from the pitch until equilibrium could be asserted, this she would willingly undertake. In her private life, and in matters of romance, she was never swayed by the mere mechanics of size, social standing or measures of attractiveness. Oh no, she was kind enough to entertain the most hopeless of suitors and manage to make them not feel bad about themselves, nor that they were hopeless cases. Much like Marilyn Monroe, she was voluptuous, blonde and “jello on springs” but this did not make her into a snob, she would happily soak up the admiration she attracted and received all compliments, as a lady ought, with grace and aplomb.
As a counselor, she made a superb listener, rarely if ever offering advice, but wisely absorbing and intuiting the crises and calamities of her client’s and bestowing calm with deep looks and loving gestures. It would never have crossed her mind to charge for these services, they were delivered gratis and without appointment at any time of the day or night. Indeed, she would take it upon herself, on inspired occasions, to mind-read, and second-guess the inner workings of her associates minds. In this way, she could effect genuine miracles, such as her creation of a White Christmas, on a dull and dreary December day, sacrificing her own warm fur coat to do so.
Like us all, she had her “best side”, and as the French would say, was truly “jolie laide” but she never let her disability affect her self-confidence, her determination, and most profoundly, her awesome appetite for life and living.
In a tireless campaign for animal rights, she defended the privileges of all warm-blooded creatures to have access to the most comfortable, cosy and companionable corners of the home, and was never deterred in her boundary-expanding bravado. She understood the maxim of the Persil soap powder advertisements, that “Dirt is Good” and that with access to such substance, hot water and a washing machine; the remedy to any short-term bedlinen malfunction was always available. The same went for sofa throws and cushions. To this end, she did not cease from exploration, and if the end result of a foray into a badger sett was a recuperative snooze on a soft bed, then this was fair reward for such bravery and possible badger-deflection.
An especial champion of small children, she noted with concern the modern preoccupation with fussy eating, and led by example, showing that it was perfectly normal to try anything once. That these anythings included boxes of tampons, packets of paracetemol, china mugs, Tupperware tubs, wooden spoons, stuffed gorillas, hairbrushes, backpacks, furniture, items of post, flower pots, car interiors, computer chargers and DVDs was perhaps unintentionally misleading to said small children, but this did not deter her from her enthusiasm to encourage. Her chocolate consumption alone, said to be very bad for her, was proof in point, and she strived to show that what didn’t kill you made you stronger. The contents of the compost bucket were a case in point. Cabbage leaves and coffee grounds made an excellent midnight snack.
It was apt that she possessed a confectionary name, originally being known as Violet Crumble, after the Australian version of the English Crunchie bar. But no, Violet was just wrong in every way, being neither shy nor shrinking, and Crumble she remained. Golden, heart-warming, scrumptious. Naughty but nice.
A daffodil nods and flashes in the wind out of the corner of my eye, and for a moment, I think it is her. A pale streak of light, tearing around and around the house; chasing her own tail, an imaginary friend, or just running for the sheer joy of movement. If you share your life with a creature as commendable as she, your serotonin levels will increase the more you stroke their lovely coat. For all the times I resisted those imploring eyes, I now feel hollow. To love is shadowed by loss. Love while you can and love all you can. That’s what she did. 
Cut and Paste 