By Louise’s 18th birthday she was already well established as a DJ. With her friend Kylie she performed all over London playing their versions of ‘dirty electro’. They called themselves “Pure Filth”. One of their friends did a great photoshoot including the pic below. You should be able to find more on this site.
On her 18th birthday – 14 years ago today – Vicky and I trooped down to Sin nightclub in Charing Cross Road to witness a set for ourselves. We were definitely the oldest couple in the room and probably the most underdressed but still impressed to see how Louise and Kylie could get the place moving.
On a recent sailing trip with old friends John and Hil we reminisced about a great family holiday in Corsica where the spend the first week sailing around the north of the island – in fact there was hardly any wind so more motoring than sailing.
We were fascinated to find that not only are there nudist beaches dotted in secluded spots around the island but also that some boats (I think French?) like to sail entirely nude! Louise would grab the captain’s binoculars and inspect other boats that we approached. Every now and then a cry of “nudie boat” would go up followed by the kids collapsing into fits of giggles.
Louise was awarded an A* and 29/30 for what her teacher described as a “highly entertaining piece” which I have transcribed here. Probably written around 2005-06 it was very prescient! You can find the original here.
‘In the future we will all be slaves to things like personal stereos, computers and mobile phones’
Welcome to the new age, one of ultimate non-communication. People fool themselves into thinking that they are communicating by having their mobiles switched on all day and checking their emails constantly. What they are actually engaging in is the ultimate form of non-communication (which will from now on be referred to as UNC).
The phenomenon of UNC has only arisen in the last ten or so years. It is highly dangerous as people often do not recognise UNC for what it actually is. UNC occurs when one being transmits unnecessary waffle (which from now on be referred to as B.S.) via a UNC unit such as a mobile telephone or computer.
This B.S. often takes the form of a subject which one party could not care less about as it does not concern them in any way. Here is an example of B.S.:
‘Hi Miranda, just to let you know, Jack broke up with me. I’m so depressed.’
‘Oh. I am sorry…’
B.S. is however only B.S. if the information is conveyed through a UNC unit, otherwise it is just known as information. The demon that causes this information to become B.S. is the issue of non-communicative communication (otherwise known as UNC), and the reason is simple. UNC contains no personal levels whatsoever and therefore the B.S. has to be interpreted by the person on the receiving end of B.S. Often this B.S. is misinterpreted as negative B.S. or unnecessary B.S. which makes a lot of people sick of all this B.S.
It would all be very harmless B.S. apart from one thing, UNC is highly addictive. A UNC addict is often compulsive (a regular checker of UNC units), impulsive (frequently changes plans over UNC), paranoid (says things like “why haven’t they called yet!?”) and cannot go any long period of time without UNC. In other words their life is ruled by B.S.
However, when the young UNC addicts do have a spare moment away from all their usual BS, they can usually be found indulging in the following: Stereos, TV, Underage drinking, Playstations, Internet and occasionally Drugs (abbreviation = STUPID). STUPIDity also carries the same high-risk addictiveness.
In conclusion, our lives are already controlled by B.S. and STUPIDity.
Caroline writes Dear Vicky I shall be thinking of you all today and I shall be remembering Louise as a year three girl dressed in her brown and blue North London collegiate school uniform with her hair flying all over the place she dashed around the grounds at Canons . I shall also remember recalling her life at school as I sat with Mrs McCabe and Mrs Prazer at Louise’s memorial service at Cecil Sharp House. Be strong today. we are all thinking of you love Caroline xx
Dot writes Dear Lil Lou, It’s been 10 years since you left us but your beautiful soul is forever with us . You were always a very kind and amazing friend who’s always there for you. Memories of our Fatty Thursdays and great nights out full of joy and laughter feel me up with love but sadness at same time. I miss you very much and so does everyone else. Your beautiful sprit is shining on us all. I’m so lucky to have met you and your family. Love you forever and ever xxx
Laura Campbell writes: Just been sat thinking about Lou and just remembered a night out when I used to stay at yours. We used to flyer for queens of noise for a bit of cash and free entry to the club night. We would take most to a random pub toilet and leave them there. One night we were both quite drunk and waiting at the bar to be served and Lou said she felt sick, so I said quick let’s go to the toilet but she said she couldn’t make it and threw up on the bar ! I grabbed her and ran to the toilets before anyone saw and we managed to get away with it to dance the rest of the night
Friend Susie writes: I couldn’t leave a memory on louisecattell.com – my tech incompetence! – so I thought I’d write the 2 most vivid memories I have of her here.
One is meeting Louise at a station or airport en route to go skiing and she had a purple streak in her hair and the widest smile in the crowd.
In Champoussin there was a double T-bar lift station right below the chalet. One late afternoon Vicky and I were leaning over the chalet’s balcony rail. There was a shortish queue for the lift – probably the last run of the day. Ross took the lift at his turn, and no one joined him. Suddenly from the right swooped Louise, along the queue and in beside Ross – perfect timing just as the T-bar jerked away. “Oh, she does love her Daddy” said Vicky.
Jane writes: I was so fortunate to have your Louise in my life and to consider her a friend, getting to know her in her teens and early adulthood on those lovely family ski-ing and Tobago holidays. She was such infectious fun and always lit up the room – I’ll never forget us ‘girls’ in the wonderful, warm Caribbean Sea singing away with our swimming costumes on our heads (not on our bodies!), encouraged by Louise and Tobagan rum punches! Not just fun, she was such a kind and caring person, and I always thought in many ways, wise beyond her years. When I broke my arm over Christmas in Champery she offered to spend days with me while everyone was out ski-ing and regularly checked in on how I was, even from Australia. I treasured those texts from Australia and when my phone was stolen shortly after her death, my immediate reaction was to chase down the road after the young man, screaming at him, that he had stolen irreplaceable text messages from my young friend and that he had to give my phone back. it wasn’t a question of insurance, I wanted the texts and offered the local lads a £250 cash reward for finding it. I failed to retrieve it of course, but that’s another story. It was such a pleasure, along with my great friend Jane Grisewood, who also adored Louise, to give her advice when she was putting together her application for art school. She will always be with me, and my heart goes out to the three of you next week. I look forward to meeting up when we are allowed, to celebrate and remember her short but action packed, memorable life.
We are standing outside Louise’s bedroom and she tells me that she wants to put on a gig.
“I will if you can show me how I’m going to get it back” I tell her. Off she goes and comes back later with a page setting out what she needs to spend – deposit for the venue, cash up front for the sound engineer, cost of flyers, and what she expects to get on the door. I am impressed and cough up the required cash.
Nevertheless I am very proud of her when the day after the event she pulls a wad of tenners out of her jeans and pays me back. I was pretty amazed that the venue, Egg, would even rent itself out to a 16 year old but I guess she did not tell them!
Other gigs followed including the successful ‘Indie Speed Dating’ night at Nambucca. A pair of my shoes featured on the flyer for that one. She did have one upset when she ran an event at Madame JoJos in Soho.
“It’s all the fault of that stupid person on the door” she tells me. Bands and DJs had been booked but nearly everyone who came told the door that they were on the guest list and got in without paying. I bailed her out and she then dutifully paid me back a bit at a time out of future profits. After a few months I let her off the balance but a good lesson in entrepreneurship was learned!
Those friends who remember Louise DeeJaying in the West End, selling vintage clothes in Camden Market or just holding forth in the Good Mixer or the Marathon may be surprised to know that at least for the first years of her life she was a country girl. We lived in Blewbury, a village in South Oxfordshire on the edge of the Downs. In our first cottage we had fields outside the front door and after moving we had a big garden on the edge of the Downs. Louise loved to play outside with her friends and at Easter we would see who could roll an egg the furthest down the side of the local chalk pit. Here she is on a sunny Spring day rather like today in London.