Not sure whether the literary term `pathetic fallacy` actually applies in this case (having just looked it up) but there is no doubt that in the early morning last Sunday, 1st November, dawn was the most startling crimson I can remember seeing in a long time, a startling crimson which took up a broad swathe of the eastern horizon and imperceptibly turned to gold as the sun rose.
It seemed a fitting way to mark news of a death that had come overnight, albeit one which was long expected and was genuinely that thing people talk about - a release.
Since then the mornings have been dreich and grey and cool which has underlined even more how memorable that dramatic moment on the morning of All Saints Day was.
R.I.P. Joan Mary. In the Celtic tradition the 1st of November is known as Samhain, which, among other things, is thought to be the time "when the spirits of those who have passed are closest to us." It certainly felt like that, pathetic fallacy or not!
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