I met Lorna in 1996 at Oxford Brookes University. To me she appeared very grown up and very cool. We were standing outside in between lectures. Those who partook were enjoying a fag (cigarette for anyone outside the UK). Lorna included me in the chat. We were just a bunch of people standing in the same spot. It wasn’t particularly exclusive. We were all new and finding our way around. I didn’t feel grown up or cool so when Lorna talked to me, it felt like perhaps a case of mistaken identity. Someone who was visibly very cool was talking to someone very uncool, but not like in a pitying way, like we were equals.
In chats with other friends of Lorna from other parts of her life someone described Lorna’s friendship as being like the episode of Father Ted where Father Dougal hangs out with the cool priest who smokes and Dougal is perpetually goofy and in awe of the cool priest. If you don’t know it watch it, it’s great.
As an aside, when I first met Lorna, she was married to a man called Dougie. The first time she mentioned him, her beautiful Scottish accent meant that I misheard her and believed he was called Dougal for the longest time, and the poor man has been Dougal in my brain ever since. Dougal is dad to the indescribably fabulous Crazy Norman. Crazy Norman is now thirty years old and goes by the name of Chris.
It was a tremendous privilege to be invited into Lorna’s world. Lorna’s friendship was like being wrapped in your favourite scarf. Her friendship wasn’t a fleeting, fair-weather friendship. Lorna’s friendship was having adventures, crazy nights out, sweet and funny times with Crazy Norman. Lorna’s friendship really went beyond friendship. She was so very thoughtful and generous with her time and her care. She was smart and very, very funny.
To witness up close Lorna’s adoration for Crazy Norman, and later two more incredible boys, blew my mind. It was incredible to observe Lorna’s parenting. I think it’s far to say that I and many of her friends felt, not parented by but, nurtured by Lorna. To be in proximity to Lorna was to receive an emotional glow up. I grew up in a family where the grown-ups were consumed by their own challenges and no one was going to save you. I was raised as a member of a joyless doomsday cult. No birthdays, no xmas, no smiling. Children were to be seen and not heard and emotions of any kind would not be tolerated. I’d not quite figured out how to dispose of these experiences in my adult life. So to observe Lorna’s gentle, respectful style of parenting before it became trendy was an education. Lorna was extremely insightful, observant, always had the words.
When my daughter was six weeks old (Lorna and I lived a couple of hours drive away from each other at this time) Lorna spotted, just in a phone call, that I had postnatal depression and suggested I speak to my health visitor. I was absolutely clueless. Lorna was spot on. I scored fourteen out of fifteen on the Edinburgh test thing. I digress.
When I met Lorna, I was back in the UK after a few years of nannying overseas. There had been some excellent and fun times. There had also been some tough and lonely times. In the second year of my degree I went to Paris for a year to work in a high school. It was amazing, and tough, and lonely. Guess who came over to visit me one weekend? That’s right, Lorna! We had such a fun weekend. I was living in a minuscule bedsit and Lorna was like a glitterball. Any environment she was introduced to improved by sixty gazillion percent.
When I came back from my year away I was without housing. Guess who put me up/put up with me for a fortnight while I looked for somewhere to live? You guessed right, Lorna! At the same time, another friend returned from a tumultuous time travelling. This friend was Danny Hair Bear, more about him later. Danny Hair Bear slept in the living room on the sofa and I was in Lorna’s bed with her. I am not a fun person to share a bed or even a room with. I’m a little better now but back then I would insist on sleeping with the curtains and window open, even in the depths of winter. I need to be able to see the sky. This wasn’t limited to sleeping arrangements. This would be shops, pubs, nightclubs, festivals. Lorna would frequently be in a beer garden in the freezing rain and snow while I would be having a full blown panic attack, with throwing up and the works because a venue was too peopley, too hot, too loud, can’t see the sky, etc... I was a social liability and Lorna accepted all of my weirdness without comment or judgement and continued to hang out with me. Lorna had the patience of a saint. Lorna and Crazy Norman were living in a gorgeous two bedroomed one bathroomed house and it seemingly never occurred to her to tell me or Danny Hair Bear that there was no room at the inn. It seemed that Crazy Norman was so secure in Lorna’s love for him that he took his mum’s bonkers mates in his stride. There were quite a few of us. We were collectively known as the Mad Aunties. There were some mad uncles too.
Lorna was close to her family, a lovely bunch of people. Her mum and dad were such warm, welcoming people and so very generous in their hospitality. I went up to beautiful Scotland with Lorna a couple of times. The first time I met her dad, Charlie, Lorna had said that we were going up to stay at her mum and dad’s ‘holiday shack’ or some such absolutely massive understatement. To this day, it remains the most beautiful place I have ever been. I, a skint student, holidayed with Lorna, Crazy Norman, and her mum and dad’s dog, Jock. Lorna didn’t show off. Ever. Whilst I was still processing the reality of her mum and dad’s palatial ‘holiday shack’ Lorna informed me that her dad was going to take us out on his boat. I’m thinking dinghy, thinking there might be oars involved. It’s a yacht. Of course it is. So the first time I met Charlie, we went seal watching on his yacht, and he made us the best ever bacon sandwiches accompanied by gin and tonics. Lorna’s mum and dad adored her, and they just extended an unquestioning generosity of hospitality to her friends. Lorna’s mum, Adrienne had a warmth and kindness, and again this Williamson generosity of spirit that went so far beyond having access to financial means. Lorna had a big brother, David, and a big sister, Sally. David died very suddenly some years ago. It was devastating for Lorna, and for everyone who loved him. She adored her nephews and nieces and loved them even harder after their dad died.
As I left the incredible ‘holiday shack’ another ‘friend’, a bit more that a friend was on his way up. Vince, the dark prince, the prince of darkness. Apologies Vince if you read this, these were nicknames based not on character but physicality. You were very much in your rock god era with your pony tail and leather trousers. Lorna clearly quite liked the leather trousers because Lorna and Vince went on to have two beautiful boys.
At university, I had always lived literally just around the corner from Lorna. We would see each other every day. After university, a group of us migrated to Bristol where, once again, I lived just up the road from Lorna. During this time she became pregnant with her second child, Elliot P, don’t know what the P was for, think he’s just Elliot now. Elliot was a planned home birth. When Lorna went into labour, I popped round to hang out with Crazy Norman who was now seven years old. We went for a walk, then we went to a pub and ate ice-cream awaiting Elliot’s arrival. Not too many ice creams later I got the phone call requesting that the new big brother pop home to count Elliot’s fingers and toes. Details are a little hazy but at some point Crazy Norman came back to my flat, spent the night with me and Sioban and then Baldy (who wasn’t Baldy back then) and I drove Crazy Norman over to Oxford to Dougal’s.
Life then took us all in different geographical directions. Baldy and I returned to Oxford, and then headed up to North Wales via Gloucester. Lorna, Vince, Crazy Norman, and Elliot moved to Devon. In Devon, Torin Sporin McBagpipes joined the gang. Lorna has produced some magnificent human beings. I was late to the party in producing other humans. Torin Sporin McBagpipes, or Torin as he is now known, is two and a bit years older than Em. When I was pregnant with Em, she was in no hurry to come out and I was threatened with being induced if she didn’t get her act together. Once again, Lorna to the rescue! She whizzed up to Gloucester from Devon. As immense good luck would have it Lorna had worked insanely hard and had become a qualified shiatsu practitioner. She came and did some magic woo woo involving pressure points, and a few hours later my waters broke. Lorna gave me some absolutely game changing tips for the labour and I was able to stay home for my own planned home birth.
Lorna has been a key person throughout my adult life. For reasons of geography, we hung out less in recent years. When Lorna became ill in 2023, I wanted to move in next door or pitch a tent in her garden and bother her every day. This wasn’t possible, so instead I bothered her every day via WhatsApp. I couldn’t ask her how she was every day, that would have quickly become very annoying, and I didn’t want Lorna to feel pressure to respond to my daily botherings. So, we had a fictional music and lifestyle venue, and radio station called The Chapel, and Chapel FM. The Chapel is an (imaginary) venue. It’s a converted chapel where there is daytime raving, with a bar that sells herbal tea for the more mature raver. There are chill out rooms with yoga and knitting. Every day I would send Lorna a song and possibly some stupid videos.
During her illness, Lorna was an absolute warrior. Healthcare in the UK is very inconsistent. Lorna had some inexcusably poor experiences. I was furious. I was furious that she was ill and furious that she wasn’t having better experiences. I would ask Lorna if there was anyone I could slap for her. I would ask her how she was able to be so serene, so focused. Lorna’s focus was her beautiful boys, Danny (yes, Danny Hair Bear), her dog Sweep. She was so focused, she was utterly pissed off and furious but she would not allow her illness to steal her energy, her peace, or her valuable time with the people she loved.
In January 2024, Lorna was told she had only days left. She proved everyone wrong. She fought so hard to stay. She celebrated Chris turning thirty. She celebrated Torin turning eighteen. She celebrated her fifth wedding anniversary with Danny. She celebrated Elliot’s birthday. She squeezed every moment out of her ‘extra’ time. Not a moment went to waste. She was pretty badly short changed at fifty three but every second of her fifty three years was packed with meaning and connection and love.
I hadn’t been able to attend Lorna’s wedding to Danny due to no care available for Baldy. Predictably, it was a very last minute affair arranging care for Baldy so that I could say goodbye to Lorna properly, and more importantly hug the people she loved. At the absolute last minute, the kids and I buzzed down to Devon and stayed over with Mad Uncle Stuart. Mad Auntie Curly Clare was also staying at Stuart’s. Clare and I hadn’t seen each other for sixteen years because, life.
Lorna’s funeral was outdoors in a stunning woodland burial site. Her service was so personal and beautiful and meaningful. Because Lorna knew she was going to die, she had met with the celebrant and had contributed to her own service. It was just remarkable. Even at her poorliest, Lorna retained the capacity and the power to consider her legacy, what she wanted to leave everyone, and what she has left everyone is a profound sense of care, love, and community. Everyone at Lorna’s service was connected by Lorna’s love even if our paths had never crossed.
Obviously, minutes into Lorna’s beautiful service Mr T announces that he needs the toilet. So we walk off into the woodland where Mr T has a woodland wee. I’m grateful it wasn’t a woodland poo. This is ridiculously on brand for us and I hope Lorna didn’t mind too much. Then I get dive bombed by a hornet that gets itself stuck in my hair and Em has to get it out using Lorna’s beautiful service booklet, again, completely on brand, and sorry Lorna. My kids adore Lorna, and Lorna adored them. Lorna’s apples haven’t fallen far from the tree, and Chris put together a spotify playlist for Lorna that we have all contributed to. I’m listening to it on repeat.
Since Lorna’s funeral, Em has dyed her hair a sort of blue black, she’s in her little emo era and I’m so sad I can’t tell Lorna because Lorna would be thrilled. I also, had a moment driving back from her funeral, when it struck me that I wouldn’t be able to tell her about her funeral and how beautiful it was.
I can’t imagine a day will go by when I won’t miss her but I will endeavour to be ‘more Lorna’ to honour her legacy. To live with authenticity and to love fiercely.
If you’re still reading raise a glass, she liked a mojito, or a G&T.
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