Pat Willimott, 1948-2012
I've about given up on writing a coherent narrative. The Pat in my mind is kaleidoscopic.
Usually she's laughing, or instigating laughter. She's ready to slidey mat or water fight or sport a lime green necker in the most unlikely places.
She's helping knit people together on the web and off, while running a full scale branch of the Hobbies Club on behalf of the CS - no, CBB - Sale.
She can be as strong-willed as necessary. She doesn't hesitate to speak her mind. She won't let heights keep her from doing what she likes. Her drabble cliff trampoline is of superb construction. And she's making light of her own difficulties while helping others through theirs.
She'll portray the helpless fear of Anna's flight from Germany, or make us sympathize with Eustacia even when it isn't a question of using the library, or expand on the canon. And then turn around to add insanity to an Advent Drabble, or animate the Thread-eating Monster, or write a unique Resurrection:
"They watched in fascination as the group of famous authors went to work. Before their eyes the wrecked planet was healed of its wounds. The cloned Mateys merged into one person, and gradually all the folk who had been slaughtered came back to life. Even the two who had caused the havoc were restored, and found themselves at home as if nothing had happened. The famous authors smiled in satisfaction, and went about their normal business in Heaven once more."
Presumably Pat is one of them.