When he claimed Julian inspired Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds:
'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' dies
updated 9:57 a.m. EDT, Tue September 29, 2009
By Peter Wilkinson
LONDON, England (CNN) -- The childhood friend of John Lennon's son who inspired the Beatles' psychedelic masterpiece "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" has died aged 46 from the chronic disease Lupus.
Lucy Vodden was a classmate of Julian Lennon, who came home from school one day carrying a drawing of his 4-year-old classmate. "That's Lucy in the sky with diamonds," he told his father.
Lennon seized on the image and embellished it in a song along with "newspaper taxis" and a "girl with kaleidoscope eyes."
The BBC later banned the track, which appeared on the 1967 album "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," for its supposed drug reference with the words of the song spelling out LSD.
Lennon always claimed though that the title was suggested by Julian, not from any wish to spell out LSD, the chemical name for the drug, acid, in code.
Julian Lennon lost touch with Vodden when he left Heath House nursery school, near his parents' home in Surrey following their divorce in 1968. But they were reunited in recent years when he heard she was suffering from the immune system disease and he lent his support to her.
Vodden's death was announced on Monday by St. Thomas Lupus Trust in London, where she had been treated for more than five years.
"Julian and (his mother) Cynthia are shocked and saddened by the loss of Lucy and their thoughts are with her husband and family today and always," the trust said on its Web site.
Angie Davidson, Campaign Director of the St. Thomas' Lupus Trust said "everyone at the Louise Coote Lupus Unit was dreadfully shocked by the death of Lucy, she was a great supporter of ours and a real fighter, it's so sad that she has finally lost the battle she fought so bravely for so long."
Vodden, who was a housewife from Surbiton, southwest of London, cherished her link to the Beatles, but did not especially like the song she inspired.
"I don't relate to the song, to that type of song," she told The Associated Press in June, according to the Web site, PopEater.
"As a teenager, I made the mistake of telling a couple of friends at school that I was the Lucy in the song and they said, 'No, it's not you, my parents said it's about drugs.' And I didn't know what LSD was at the time, so I just kept it quiet, to myself."
It's October, and suddenly it's pleasant outside at last. I even grabbed my hoodie to go to work Friday morning. Whoo hoo!
So we spent Caturday morning cleaning the backyard, then did a little shopping (forgot to get what we went to Costco for, the BATTERIES), and I decorated the house for Halloween.
We're getting to the point where I stopped at the end of the 2008 NaNo, so pretty much everything from here on is "new" and largely unedited.
It took more than a little while, but Bonnie became reconciled to Sean Patrick's new home in Los Angeles. It didn't really change anything between them. His visits were just as frequent; if anything, he came more often and was more cheerful now that he wasn't constantly butting heads with Matt, and the drive was better for him since Los Angeles was so much closer than San Antonio.
She kept up a lively correspondence with Blythe, but her local friends seemed to fall away as the years passed. The "Better Than" girls quietly disbursed, until Bonnie wasn't sure where anyone was living or who had a benefactor. She heard from a couple of the girls a few times, but gradually their friendships had trickled away, so gradually she scarcely noticed when the calls stopped.
"You definitely have to come down to L.A. now," said Sean Patrick during one late summer visit, lounging in her kitchen while she prepared dinner. "I've been taking cooking lessons."
"No! Seriously?" she replied, finding the idea ludicrous. "You? You're too lazy."
He looked hurt. "I have to feed myself somehow, you know," he said. "How did you think I was getting by?"
"Restaurants," she answered, pausing to pat his shaggy cheek. "You've already done better on your own than everyone guessed you would."
He scowled at her, but it was only a passing frown before the twinkle returned. "What, you didn't think I could live on my own?"
"I gave you a year," she replied airily. "And I thought the best of you, so I won the pool, since you're still there."
"Y'all were bettin' against me?" his voice rose an octave. "Damn, now I know what everyone thinks of me!"
"We tease because we love," she said. "I think Matt only gave you a week."
"He would, the damned old SOB," he growled, then seemed to realize what he'd said. He blushed. "Pardon me."
"Darling, I really don't mind if you swear," she said. "Now since you're feeling all domestic, you can set the table."
"Yes'm." He got the plates and silverware out, laying the table with as much class as though they were going to be hosting a formal dinner party. "You know, Miss Bonnie, you still haven't come to see the Nightmare." The way he just said the name of his bar told her how much it meant to him, and she felt bad for her reticence.
Bonnie looked down at her hands. "I want to, you know," she said, her words coming out more slowly than she'd meant them to. She felt him behind her, his chest against her back, cool breath on her hair.
"You don't. Why?" he asked.
God, no. Not now. Not this conversation, she didn't want to have it, not ever. "Of course I do," she said, not looking up. His long hands gripped her shoulders, pressing her tightly against him.
"Don't lie to me, honey. We've always been frank with one another. Tell me true. What's wrong?" He tried to turn her to face him, but Bonnie didn't want to look into his earnest eyes. She resisted, but he kept up the pressure until she was forced to face him. She kept her gaze on the front of his shirt, a casual flannel rather than one of his fancy ones, dark charcoal with black pearl snaps. One long finger lifted her chin, and Bonnie closed her eyes. "Look at me, darlin'," he said in a low voice. "Talk to me."
"I can't," she whispered. "I just can't."
"I could make you, you know," he said in that same soft tone. "You know I've never used vampire powers on you, darlin'. I don't want to."
That made her open her eyes, remembering as if from another lifetime him telling her about what he did to people who were under the sway of his hypnosis. She swallowed. "You wouldn't do that to me."
"No, I probably wouldn't," he admitted. "But I'd be tempted. I want to know, Bonnie. What's wrong? What's gone bad here? Haven't I always done what you've asked of me?"
"Always! I couldn't ask for anything more," she said, falling into his eyes, not wanting to, fighting it. "I just... I'm just..." she stammered, trying to get away from his intense gaze. "I think I'm jealous of Los Angeles," she burst out under that scrutiny, wishing she could drag the words back even as she said them. "I wanted you to move here if you were going to move anywhere."
Slowly he started to smile, an expression not unlike a vibrantly beautiful sunrise, flooding his face from his mouth to his eyes until they were crinkled with honest mirth and filled with staggering affection. Without another word, he bent his head and kissed her, tenderly, his fingers tangling in her hair as he caressed her face with his thumbs. Bonnie fought against the tears that, unexplained, leapt into her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. A whimper struggled in her throat and she had to stop kissing him because she needed to breathe, needed to get oxygen to the sobs that were choking her. He stroked her face, his expression tender.
"I'm not in love with you!" she almost shouted, determined to make it so. It only made him smile more.
"I know. Of course not," he replied, his fingers gently smoothing tears from her cheeks, his skin cool, soothing, on her hot face. "That was against the rules, wasn't it?"
She nodded, blinking furiously. "I'm going to Los Angeles."
"Can we have dinner, first?" he asked, his expression going bland, his eyes teasing her now. Bonnie mock-hit him on the chest and then buried her face in his shirt. He chuckled, smoothing her hair and closing his arms around her, pressing her close while she cried. "Don't ever worry, Bonnie-girl," he whispered, his head bent over hers, "I made some promises to you and I mean to keep 'em."
"I'm not in love with you," she repeated, resolute, her voice muffled against him.
He didn't respond this time, just held her until she cried herself out, then sat her down and served them dinner. She drank all of the wine he poured for her, and he obligingly refilled her glass without her needing to ask. They ate in silence, and while Bonnie still felt weird and awkward, it didn't feel uncomfortable. She did have the idea he was waiting for something, and she didn't know what. Finally, she looked at his face again.
His expression was unreadable, that slight crease between his eyebrows, as he studiously kept his attention on his plate, but his jaw was clenched, making it look even heavier than usual, bringing out his Indian blood. She swallowed and said, "Can we get to Los Angeles before sunrise?"
He started, then looked up at her, his eyes even more enormous than usual as they flicked to the clock then back to her face. "Yes. Easily." His expression shifted, his brows coming down sharply over his nose. "And why?"
"Because I promised I would and I haven't. You keep your promises to me." She stood up and headed resolutely for the bedroom. "I can be packed in half an hour."
He moved faster than she could see and intercepted her at the door. "Not like this, honey," he said, and grabbed her shoulders. It almost hurt, but not quite; Bonnie winced and looked up at him. His eyes were glowing and his fangs had extended, giving him that unearthly appearance that she had gotten so used to as being a part of him that it had never frightened her in the slightest. But for the first time she realized his strength as a vampire, how dangerous he could be if he chose, and just what exactly he could do to her.
Only he was Sean Patrick, and he was incapable of hurting her. She wasn't afraid when he pulled her close, tightened his hold on her, and sank his fangs into her neck.
It never hurt when he bit her. His mouth was soft as silk as his lips closed on the wounds he'd made, and he drank from her. Their blood-bond had always been strong, but this time she was swept away in sensations as he allowed her deeper inside himself than he ever had before. She felt a wave of intense loneliness, so vast and unending she thought it would crush her. Tears leaped into her eyes and she clung to him, sobbing, as he showed her how hard it had been for him to leave his family, how very alone he was in Los Angeles, how much he missed everyone, and how much he cared about her. She knew now, without any doubts, what he felt and why had felt he had to step out on his own.
His tongue smoothed over the skin of her neck, closing the small holes his fangs had made, and he lifted her gently and carried her to the bedroom. "I took more than I should have," he whispered, his tone as gentle as his movements. "You're gonna be a little dizzy."
Bonnie nodded, still crying. She didn't want to let him go when he laid her on the bed, so he followed her down, stretching out next to her and twining his long hands in her hair. His beautiful, huge eyes studied her. God, he was so lonely! How had she never seen that before? For all his careless self-confidence, he was really just a frightened boy. That was why Matt treated him the way he did. Matt knew. Now Bonnie did, too. He wiped the tears from her face as she traced her fingers over the bones of his face.
"If you still feel like going, we can get moving at sunset tomorrow," he said, kissing her.
She nodded. She was still so wrapped up in his feelings and emotions she was having a hard time finding herself in the mix. All his kindness was shining in his eyes, every tender feeling she knew he had. Still she couldn't find the words to speak. She was drifting, no longer in control of her body.
"Go to sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, brushing away another tear. "Get some rest."
"Who am I?" she managed. She couldn't remember anymore.
He smiled slightly. "My sweet little Bonnie-girl," he said in a soft sing-song. "I didn't mean to bulldoze you like that." He smoothed his fingers over her forehead, brushing her hair off her face. "I just couldn't think of a better way to explain myself."
He continued to speak, but she stopped hearing him, his soft voice lulling her to sleep.
When Bonnie woke up, it was already early afternoon. She was still tired and achy, but she pulled away from the sleeping vampire and sat up anyway. They'd both gone to sleep in their clothes. She eased out of bed, went into the bathroom, and brushed her teeth, then went out to the dining room. Their dinner was still laid out, cold, the mess still in the kitchen. With a sigh, she turned on the radio and started to gather up the dishes, throwing out the wasted food.
There was an Elvis song playing, one of the old ones they didn't play so much anymore rather than one of the newer singles. Bonnie hummed along, distractedly, until the announcer came on. She froze as she heard, "Repeating the news just in this afternoon from Memphis, Elvis Presley, the King of Rock and Roll, has died at the age of 42," before they spun another disc.
"What did he say?" came Sean Patrick's voice from the doorway.
"Oh, honey," she said, turning, wiping her hands. He'd been changing, and was only wearing his jeans; his hair was falling boyishly around his stricken face, his eyes huge, the expression disbelieving. "I'm so sorry."
"That can't be. He's supposed to be starting a new tour," said Sean Patrick. He looked so little-boy-lost Bonnie threw down her towel and hugged him.
"Let's see if there's any news," she said. He followed her out of the kitchen to the living room, where Bonnie turned on the television. There was a soap opera on, of course, middle-of-the-day broadcasting. She turned the channel, until she found one where a news break had interrupted the show, the sober-faced anchorman saying, "...of apparent heart failure. The singer was discovered unresponsive in his home earlier today. Again, Elvis Presley, 42, has died. Stay tuned to this station for more news and information about the life and death of the singer, who influenced an entire generation of musicians."
Bonnie looked at Sean Patrick. He'd lit a cigarette and was smoking in silence, tears running down his cheeks. There was no question about going anywhere tonight. She knew he'd be glued to that television until the broadcast signed off, at least. She leaned forward and patted his thigh. "You want anything?" she asked softly. He shook his head, but she brought him a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass of ice, anyway, which he took wordlessly.
She heard the channels change as she cleaned up the dining room and kitchen. Instead of a dinner she brought him a plate of chocolate cookies, knowing he'd want the sweets. He took them just as soundlessly as before. When she came back with her own dinner, a simple macaroni and cheese, he'd already eaten the entire tray. He'd drunk most of the whiskey and the ashtray was full. When she finished her dinner, she cleared everything away and re-stocked his whiskey, returned a clean ashtray to his elbow and another tray of cookies. He managed to give her a wan smile.
"You're mighty good to me, Bonnie-girl," he said in a hoarse voice.
"That's what I'm supposed to do," she answered. No emotions, no love, just a mistress taking care of her benefactor. But he caught her hand and pulled him onto his lap.
"Don't put that distance between us, honey. Not after last night."
She hesitated a moment, then wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
This week went by so fast, I don't even know what happened. I have a buttload of crap backed up on Tivo I need to catch up on (one of the problems with a new season).
Yesterday on my way to work I saw an enormous bird flapping its way across the road in front of me, and it was more or less going the same direction as me; I figured it must be a heron, because it was SO ginormous in the morning sky, and I "followed" it all the way to where the big pond is outside of the office building near mine, and I saw it bank in and disappear behind the pine trees, but I couldn't see it on the pond. It must have been a heron, though.