We’ve lost a wonderful colleague and friend, the author Geoff Gudgion. He was lost to a devastating disease that took a mere few weeks to claim him. So how do we say we miss you? How do we say we’re so sorry to his family, when we don’t know them? How do we accept that we didn’t really know you Geoff? We are missing you, but only that part of you that you shared with us. 

I can share what we do know and maybe that small sliver reflects Geoff more broadly. Geoff was always impeccably dressed carrying himself and his lovely clothes with a subtle blend of playfulness and dignity. At Authors’ Club events he sometimes looked like he was on his way to a wedding or to meet royalty, such was his bearing and carriage. A published author Geoff wrote ghost stories, historical fantasy, novellas and short stories. His writing world was peppered with the supernatural and fantastic characters like Adelais, his cross-dressing warrior nun. Not the sort of thing I read much, but very popular. Geoff had a solid and reliable market of happy readers and enviable sales.

We met at our publisher’s offices where we had been invited to learn more about something social media related. A sort of workshop it was. Sitting in my first fiction publisher’s office to talk about my first novel, I was so very over excited, so early and so feeling like I was on my way as a fiction writer (I wasn’t). The books lining the publisher’s office walls, the little kitchen area, the serious faces of the people going to and fro, talking is low tones about books and writing. The smell of books and print and the door leading to what were surely hallowed spaces beyond the lobby area. We would soon be part of that sacred space having sacred conversations about writing and the sacred publishing process. It was all so grown up. 

As the minutes oozed slowly by I was watching my hands, even shakier than usual. And in swans Geoff Gudgion. This man so tall, so straight and confident, so in control. I thought he must be something military and later found out that he had been in the Royal Navy for many years. That day when we met, he was wearing a short cut leather jacket and chinos, with seriously smart shoes and bright blue socks. The bright blue was picked up in a navy blue shirt open at the neck and patterned with little dots or were they diamonds? Attractive, smart and elegant, with just a hint of teasing flirtatiousness.

He sat down next to me super cool, urbane. Geoff just as excited as me but without the fidgeting. Geoff was not a debut author, which for me gave him considerable writerly authority. We chatted about how we each came to be with the publisher, what we expected in the workshop, what our books were about. And walking back to the tube he said he’d love to be part of the Authors’ Club. That was the beginning of what might otherwise have been nothing more than a brief moment of shared experience. I am very glad that it wasn’t.

Over the few years since that initial meeting we, along with other Authors’ Club members, met often. Soon Geoff joined the Authors’ Club Executive Committee and took on the Treasurer’s duties. He was supportive of writers as much as readers. Besides doing the financial work superbly, Geoff was an especially committed reader for the Best First Novel Award and he attended pretty much all the Authors’ Club monthly lunches. At our James Bond dinner in 2023 to celebrate Casino Royale’s seventieth birthday, Geoff channelled Bond to perfection. He was immaculate in black tie, complete with white dress scarf. 007 personified Geoff swanned about, martini in hand, working the room and in command.

But these little moments shared at Authors’ Club events were all we really have of the man. The rest of his life belonged to his family and many friends and colleagues. We knew he was his wife’s carer and support. We knew he had a son in Australia who came to visit. We knew he organised a local meet and greet event with thriller writer Frederick Forsyth. We knew he was a keen horseman and we knew of his 17 year old warmblood Elsa’s gifted performance in the dressage arena. (I think it’s Elsa.) He loved telling tales of her misdemeanors and brilliance. Elsa’s apparently got a habit of jumping out of dressage arenas to bog off somewhere more interesting. Telling me about such moments I had the impressionn that Geoff was less cross than thrilled. An unexpected jaunt through the woods is far more interesting than halting at X or cantering a 15 metre circle. Geoff struggled with this because he had one leg longer than the other. A special shoe compensated for this on the ground. But wasn’t much good when he was riding, so he had to sit very straight to stop the circle becoming a spiral. What a strange thing to know about a man.

Geoff was also a keen shot and chef. Annoying pigeons on his front lawn were regularly dispatched, especially when Geoff was expecting people for lunch. To my look of horror at this information, Geoff told me his guests very much enjoyed home made pigeon pie (with home made pigeons) in burgundy gravy, served with mashed potatoes and peas. 

Fragments, little pieces of a life. We have these and the sense that we might have meant something to the man. We might have added a dimension to his world that he valued and enjoyed. He gave us so much of his grace and charm, his wit and insightfulness and his patience. A military man to the end even in such terrible and sudden ill-health. He was charming, stoic, diplomatic and above all kind. I am glad to have shared a small sliver of his world. 

When last we met at the Authors’ Club summer drinks, we chose wine number 007 from the National Liberal Club wine list. It’s Pommery Brut Royale BV Champagne described as “harmonious and never grows tiresome”. Much like Geoff really, a champagne of a man. We and many others will miss you very much.