I love being immersed in her life, her work and her crazy creations. I love reading her words, gazing at her images and second-guessing her thoughts. I love watching her work. Some say I am gripped. Some say possessed. Some say haunted. Some people might even say plagued. For me though it's a joy that I have created for myself. My life and her life were well and truly wound up and wrapped up together enough as it was before this past year, but I have taken the immersion to another level.
This was never the plan. She had already crept into every available space of my life, but it appeared that there was no escape. Or perhaps no return. No denial. All my worlds collided at just the right time, and I was offered access to Fanny Cradock's own personal archive. I just can't explain how exciting that was for me. Her contribution to the world has never really been discussed beyond the usual mentions of ballgowns, eyebrows and green potatoes. Until now... Could I do it?
So research in hand, insights noted and somehow all pulled together into a (hopefully) coherent set of 12,000 words for submission, I handed in my work. Then waited. And waited. It seemed like forever waiting on that mark. Had I done Fanny justice? Had I repaid all the kind offers of help and access with something decent? Would anyone find my research as fascinating as I had? Had I just made a Cradock of myself? Well, it turns out that I needn't have worried. My work earned me a Distinction. It's official. I now have a distinctive Fanny. I'm super pleased of course. I'm hoping to publish my research in some shape or form, hoping someone will want to read it! Maybe I should go for a PhD next. After all, what better to top off being a distinctive Fanny than being crowned a Fanny Doctor?