The last time I saw her, I visited her with my friends Marijana Wootton and Julia Laverne. She wanted to cook me lunch, and I suppose my last image was her pushing down crab meat into a shell with again dirty finger nails. She cooked us roast lamb. I was seriously impressed not quite believing that she would really enjoy ordinary things. Dressed in a sari and looking well she was having her hair and make up done as we ate lunch. She was about to go on one of her travels, this time to India. Detmar was there. He had a dog with him, and a friend of hers from Russia. She wanted to learn the computer and I said I would show her. I was saying she should have a blog, a website and make money. That's funny because in reality there is no money to be made in these things. Marijana had just finished a four part series on women journalists. Issy had moved from the East End to Eaton Square. Her flat was lavender and gold with amazing pieces of artwork. She was in a good mood. Hiding her feet under the Sari she thought was her best option. She didn't talk about death, instead she was intellectual and very serious. Talking about tiles from Morocco., museums. I was annoying, and I talked over, instead of truly listening. I was just so happy to see her up. She didn't seem to mind. Detmar told me he was walking the dog. He left before lunch. He then called me twenty minutes later and said he was on his way to Hills, their country house, and could I tell Issy. He didn't speak to Issy, but then her telephone was probably off..
I never spoke to her again. She went to the country on her return and I could not speak to her and her telephone was off. I worried about her continually. I heard she had dreams of owning a smart white horse, that she could hunt on. I heard that she was happy. I didn't believe anybody. I was right.
However I was still looking for my Twin.. and I just couldn't see it. Still my friends say when pushed, your similarity is you are both different... well I will think about that.
When I heard about her death, I was filled with total misery. I think about her at least once a day. I miss her. Alexander Mcqueen who she felt didn't care did a show based around her. As a present, he gave us her scent, Fracar and her favourite lipstick which looked shocking pink. I opened the scent up and got a shock. I could feel her come into the room. Of course there are many other stories I could tell. These came to me today. Many more will come in the future. She leaves a precious gap, and I do miss seeing her lipstick smeared on her teeth.