Christopher Lee is dead. He was an amazing actor and a man who did and experienced more in his life than others would in five lifetimes. He led one of those lives you think only happen in books. He met Rasputin’s murderers and witnessed the last public execution in France. He fought in World War II and was part of the Secret Service. He acted in hundreds of films and sang heavy metal. He lived a life you write books about.
For me, he was Saruman. When I heard the news yesterday, I was really sad. Part of me thought he’d live to be 121. So, to honour him, I watched 1973’s Wickerman. Seeing Christopher Lee with that hair and that suit, surrounded by singing crazy people, was oddly comforting. And it reminded me that while he may be gone, his work stays with us.