Remembering Fran Watson, I think first of the pleasure of being with her.  We had a scad of things in common, and probably an equal number of things not in common, so conversation was both easy and informative.  We were both mothers, both writers, both tuned into changes our longish lives allowed us to observe. We were more or less the same generation – that is, one of us had six years on the other  – but much of our age-experience was the same. What we could do was compare and contrast, and so we did, to the interest and benefit, I do believe, of us both.

Fran was pleasant and cheerful and – as I say – a pleasure to be with.  She was also thoughtful and intelligent and ran her life experiences through her own complex weighing mechanism, so was good to talk to in terms of how things come out.  I am sorry that these talks will be no more, but sorrier that Fran herself is not still here, enjoying life and adding to its pleasures for her family and her friends.