DAVID BOWIE: Hard to say goodbye to our brilliant Starman

I’M SITTING here in more floods of tears than any teenage pop fan, listening to a magical song from 1969, released when I was two years old, writes Suzanne Harrington

It’s David Bowie’s ‘Memory of a Free Festival’, from his Space Oddity album. On the radio, they’re playing Bowie back to back. His voice is echoing through my house, and his picture — as Ziggy Stardust — sits permanently on my desk, a constant reminder of what creativity looks like.

David Bowie was my hero. I can’t even believe I’m writing that in the past tense. When Lemmy died days after his 70th birthday, there was an international upsurge of affection, a sense of wonder that he lasted as long as he did; with Bowie’s death, days after his 69th birthday and the release of his latest album, Blackstar, his gorgeous parting gift to us, there is only a sense of shock. Of heart-breaking loss.