It's very odd to feel sad when a celebrity dies - unless I guess you knew them personally.
This morning was a double shocker; first Patrick Swayze then a few hours later, Keith Floyd.
Now with PS I was sad. But with KF I was gutted.
I loved to watch Floyd cook even though most of it was meat or fish and therefore not really something I could do. But he was pure entertainment before all the wanker arrogant TV chefs of today were on the box . And he reminded me a lot of my dad's style of cooking. When my mum died, dad went mad and started taking over the kitchen. Much to my annoyance as I was also trying to do the same thing. Our styles of cooking were different. I chop as I go, quite happily cooking in chaos with a sink full of dishes. Dad on the other hand would first clean the kitchen, then get his glass of booze, his rolled up ciggie and set off on the great and LONG adventure of cooking that night's dinner. Before the actual cooking began, he would have everything chopped and ready in little dishes, Floyd-like. I would be told to get out of the way and would only get him coming into the main room to tell me a story or summat whilst he set something to simmer, blanch or burn (frequently, though he denied it). Dinner would take ages and often we didn't sit down to eat for at least 2 hours.
We both enjoyed watching Floyd. The man had style even if he was a rude sod. He would embrace the cooking and life etc. I wanted to go where he went, drink what he drank and be that enthusiastic about eating (something I think denied to veggies as we often say No to food). And I loved that. So sad to see that vitality gone.
Dad's coming over this weekend and I think we will do a tribute lunch to Floyd. But there is no way the old man is kicking me out of the kitchen this time and NO booze for him as he's driving. And we will eat before I age another year.