She was an avid reader from an early age and wrote her first book when she was eight. Born in Scotland, she settled in the middle of it all and travelled widely. She worked all her life, transferring her love of communication to her professional life where she perfected the art of communications, utilising her skills with a number of different organisations, leaving her mark of individuality and expression on each and every one of them.
She did the same with the people she met throughout her life. She never wasted time and energy on hate, she loved passionately and she collected a diverse array of friends from all corners of the globe. With a tendency to dwell on circumstances beyond her control, this led her to behave erratically some of the time – but most of the time, she kept her passion and spontaneity under control, reserving her unbridled emotion for her novels, short stories, letters and poetry.
She always tried her best (that’s what they said in her school reports), never wanted to hurt anyone intentionally and always did what she could to make amends if she felt she had been wrong. She touched people’s lives, she explored thought provoking topics and she accepted everyone she met at face value. She hoped, throughout her life, that her words were life affirming and were well received by her wide ranging audience.
She died of natural causes, at the age of 99, writing an epic novel that spanned five decades and several lifetimes and loves. Contrary to rumour, her 50 cats had not started to eat her and her ashes were scattered on top of Great Gable overlooking her favourite place in the world, Wastwater, in the Lake District.
She leaves behind a wealth of written work, mostly unread, and various social media accounts avidly followed by thousands of people she never met and by some who were just too stubborn or proud to get in touch with her personally.
She never held a grudge and is now resting in peace, scattered to the wind along the fells of the great, romantic poets.
Mags Winthrop Blog 