BELOVED FRIEND AND DANCING PARTNER
I first met Jim in the pages of the Hardy Journal way back in my Hardy infancy. I didn't know who James Gibson was only that he had written a letter to the editor complaining about abridged works of Hardy and what an unforgivable thing to do! I thought "what a Dodo!" and wrote a letter to the editor complaining about the complainer and saying, in all my student-ile arrogance that it takes a genius to get abridged in the first place (so what a compliment to TH!) and that if Shakespeare can survive Mr Lamb then Hardy will surely fare no less well!
The ensuing battle in the pages of the Journal has left only a vague imprint on my memory but with hotheaded Jim and hotheaded RM you can bet your bottom dollar it wasn't destined for the peace prize. The outcome, for this female warrior in the crossfire, was sheer terror when, at the ensuing Weymouth Summer School, I found myself domiciled right next to a door which had the name "Dr James Gibson" emblazoned on it. Just my luck! I tried clambering out of my dorm window. Barred! I tried dawn exits and entrances in the hope he'd be some kind of regular sleeper and Hey Presto! for 3 trembling days and nights I managed to creep past his door without being arraigned on abridgement charges.
Then came The Night of the Barn Dance -- Reels and Jigs and all manner of ecstatic rounds and the music played on and the whirling went on and then, at some point in the wild euphoric daze there was the usual lull for change of partners and who should be facing me but Dr James Gibson. For a split second I thought I'd go into spontaneous combustion but instead we both, unexpectedly, burst out laughing.
We have danced the nights away ever since. And in between times while we have quizzed each other, and fought tooth and nail with each other, and laughed ourselves silly, and hugged and loved, Jim has sent dance-rhymes and Hardyana., songs sung down my phone line and affectionate anecdotes to my answering machine -- to this person he has called,. for 35 years, his Dancing Partner.
So -- the Last Dance was particularly memorable. Because Jim could no longer dance. His knees had gone and he now had a walking stick and our Dancing Days were over. But, as I made my way on to the floor who should come staggering over, hands waving, walking stick thrown recklessly away, eyes gleaming with dare-devilry -- ah yes, who else? lame and broken at the knee, my Dancing Partner.
Yay!