I'm off on a well-earned holiday till 12 March, and I'd love to see lots of contributions when I get back. It's very easy to post text and pictures, so do give it a try - please start by saying who you are and how you knew Jayne. It doesn't matter how short or long your contribution is, and I hope this will turn into an online conversation about Jayne, so please feel free to respond to other people.
In the meantime here's part of a letter from Sarah Nicholls, Jayne's colleague at the Wellington Hospital.
In the meantime here's part of a letter from Sarah Nicholls, Jayne's colleague at the Wellington Hospital.
Jayne was the best company. On a night out, it was always a bonus if you got to sit next to her.
If Jayne was around at lunchtime, you would know that it wouldn't be long enough to chat about anything and everything -- work (a chance to pick Jayne's brains about a patient, a way to approach a problem, guidance on professional development) and play (the best Bourgeois eyeshadow, holiday destinations, a new joke, restaurant recommendations, Rigby & Peller bras!).
Jayne was a great source of gossip and funny stories, but at the same time you didn't think twice about having a confidential chat, never doubting that it would remain so.
Jayne always had something interesting to say. Whenever Matthew (my partner) knew I'd be seeing her, he'd say, "Ask Jayne what she thinks about this... ask Jayne whether she's heard about that," and I'd always have something to report back!
Jayne was so thoughtful. She always remembered birthdays -- last year, she bought me a gift of Neal's Yard foot cream after I'd been complaining about my feet! When I was pregnant and became anaemic, she came in the following week with a big bag of organic apricots. She knew that Matthew and I were restoring our house, and delivered piles of World of Interiors and Elle Decoration into my pigeonhole most weeks.
It seems to me that the depth and breadth of Jayne's influence on so many lives is mirrored by the extent to which so many people now feel such a loss. I know that her influence will always be with me.
posted by Phil at 11:31 AM
1 Comments:
And here are some comments by other colleagues of Jayne's in the voice world who have contributed to the tribute in The Singer:
Jayne first came to me for singing lessons 16 years ago. She was a voice therapist, passionate about her subject but unable to make the link between science and singing; I was passionate about singing and knew little about science. Jayne had a dogged determination, refusing to be beaten by a small thing like not being able to read music. She and I became firm friends as we both realised that the whole person was most important in our two fields.
Christine Dix, chorus member, English National Opera, and Jayne’s singing teacher
Jayne was a dynamic and enthusiastic advocate of the role of speech and language therapists for individuals with voice disorders. A natural entertainer, she always rose to the challenge of speaking to the media, appearing on television and radio and bringing the issue of voice care to the attention of the wider community.
Given her dedication to the profession and others, and her ongoing support of the work of the Royal College of Speech and Language Therapists, her untimely death has come as a great sadness to all who knew and worked with her.
Kamini Gadhok, chief executive, and Steven Harulow, head of communications, Royal College of Speech and Language Therapists
In both her voice and psychotherapy work, Jayne had an unusual ability to marry science and art. She had a deep technical understanding of the voice, but she also used the power of intuition, humour and sensitivity.
Lesley Garrett, speaking about her own period of voice problems, said: “I didn’t just lose my voice, I lost my joy”. Jayne’s varied therapy skills honoured both the joy of singing and the significance of voice disorder.
With her death, our profession has truly lost a generous expert.
Christina Shewell, voice teacher and speech and language therapist
Jayne was an extraordinary person, someone who I always looked forward to
talking with, because it was always a positive and uplifting experience.
She was a true humanist and an optimist, always seeing possibilities and the
bright side of a person or subject.
She had an unflagging interest in voice disorders and was a tremendous
supporter of the field, her skill with a pen surpassed only by
her abilities with her patients.
Jayne was remarkable. She brought happiness to all of us, and I
feel honoured for having had the good fortune to count her as a friend.
John Rubin, consultant ear, nose and throat surgeon
Jayne was in there right from the start with The Singer. She came home clutching a copy of the first issue, offered her services as a voice columnist, and was promptly signed up.
I always worried she’d run out of material – surely there’s only so much you can write about the voice? – but like all good journalists she was able to churn out article after article, making each one fresh, informative and readable.
Surely the most memorable was the piece on mucus, in which she described her bemusement when patients brought her samples, neatly wrapped in handkerchiefs, for her to inspect.
This was spotted by someone at the London Evening Standard, who penned (or should I say punned?) the following:
The hills are alive with the sound of mucus in the April/May issue of The Singer magazine, where Jayne Comins’ phlegmatic article on “the meaning of mucus” is spit, sorry split, up into handy gobbets such as “So what does the nose do?” (it holds up your glasses, surely) and “How do you get rid of mucus?” (well, we usually leave it out for the dustmen). Snot funny, you may say, but Comins’ article is surely a must for all singers of Greensleeves who accompany themselves on the catarrh. The mag costs £2, so cough up.
Phil Goddard, Jayne’s husband
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