Never in a million years would it have crossed my mind that I'd actually feel remotely concerned, let alone sad if Luciano Pavaroti died. Watching one of his old concerts on BBC2 felt like saying goodbye to a very old friend. Hello? Why? Did I know jack about this big, fat Italian man? No.
But watching him sing is really something.
But dad used to listen to him when we were little.
But I remember inspecting CD cases with his pictures on them.
But I remember hearing Figaro and all the other stuff and mom telling us why Opera Singers were all big.
How fitting is Bocelli's Nesun Dorma to say goodbye to one more piece of childhood.
Pavarotti dies
Elesti cries
The world is a little less special.
And she is a little more old
For feeling sad on the day that a man, who will be historic; a legend to generations which are still to be born, died.

I wonder if he was as nice as he seemed.