In Memory of Diana

1944 ― 2003

Though the day of my destiny’s over,

And the star of my fate hath declined,

Thy soft heart refused to discover

The faults which so many could find.

Lord Byron

Diana with Bishop Manchester’s cat, Cleo, at the Oratory of the Precious Blood.

Diana Wynne Brewester (née Pryce) was born in Neath, South Wales, on 19 July 1944. She began working as a bank clerk, but was drawn to the performing arts and became proficient in dancing. Her father was a policemen, which gave her an interest in crime investigation that developed into a passion for law. He was also a Freemason and this might have had some influence on Diana’s drift into various aspects of the occult in her early years. In the wake of her father’s death, however, she discovered papers amongst his regalia that gave her pause for thought. What she found disturbed her enough to cause her to apply the brakes to her fascination with occultism. She eventually returned to the Church. This all happened after her arrival in London where she worked as a model for various fashion companies. Diana was quite tall with blonde hair and green eyes. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was exceptionally glamorous; an enchantment that remained with her to the end.

Diana was my secretary throughout the 1980s and 1990s. She was also my friend and comrade. More than that, Diana, like me, was an only child. Our birthdays were just four days apart. We immediately became as close as any brother and sister. As our blood relations died off, one by one, we became each other’s family. She grew to know my parents in their last years, and was present at the three most important occasions of my life: my marriage, my ordination into the sacred priesthood, and my elevation to the episcopate. When the best man’s arrival was delayed at my wedding, it was Diana who immediately stepped in to become “best woman.” We could not have wished for a better person on the day. Diana’s support was always unflinching. She was undoubtedly one of the most generous people I have ever met, and there was not a mean bone in her entire body. Her love of animals ranged from hamsters to tigers; yet she was afraid of moths. Indeed, the last letter received from her, dated 21 November 2003, included a reference to this phobia, along with one of her charming drawings of five such creatures; her penultimate sentence being: “Well, ‘looking on the bright side of life,’ at least our cats are moth free, and beautifully bright and shining.” Diana loved her cats. Remarkably, we each gave our cat the same name, ie “Cleo,” during the 1990s.

She married after a successful modelling career, marrying David Darcy Brewester with whom she had one natural child, Oliver, and adopted another, Yanni. From this period she would always live in Highgate. The years following her divorce were not easy; yet she was always the person who brightened a room when she entered. Full of fun and an almost childlike quality. She loved the Kenwood Concerts on Hampstead Heath where, on summer evenings with friends, she would take a picnic and listen to the strains of the orchestra across a small lake. The one thing that stood out about Diana was her voice. Her spoken voice belonged to a past time when England was far more refined than now. She also sang beautifully, whether singing church hymns or singing along to a piece of music as she cooked in the kitchen. Her great love of music stemmed from the world of opera. She knew all the arias to Tosca, Madame Butterfly, La Bohème, and many more. She adored Wagner’s music which she listened to ever more toward the end of her life. Religion, too, was an enormous comfort. The one thing that made Diana unique was her sense of humour and ability to effortlessly adapt to any age group and environment. She seldom ever complained about anything; though the worsening air pollution and rise in crime entered her conversation at the end of the old century. She even spoke of leaving London in the last couple of years. It was not to be. Catholicism became her sanctuary with her sometimes attending Polish Masses for their traditional atmosphere of devotion. Diana would always help people where she could, and in her twilight years she helped her elderly neighbours with errands, nursing them when they were sick.

Ironically, she was alone at home when she passed into the Lord’s safekeeping just before Christmas, having been diagnosed with cancer in the previous September. She restricted this sad news to just three of her loyal friends, and, due to her throat being effected by the cancer, no proper telephone conversation could occur. She could barely speak at all. She allowed none of her friends to visit her during her illness because she was always so glamorous and would not allow anyone to become distressed at seeing her in a bad way. Diana was undergoing radiotherapy treatment until her demise in the third week of Advent. Whatever she suffered, she suffered alone. Yet her letters to the end were full of good cheer. She looked painfully thin and wan in latter years. But this did not halt her adventures, which included regular visits to Denmark and Germany. In Diana I found an affinity with someone who shared the same passion for poetry, opera, theatre, art and literature. She accompanied me on a pilgrimage to Newstead Abbey and Hucknall Torkard Parish Church where the poet’s remains are interred. I often felt that here was someone who would accompany me to the ends of the Earth. She was a devoted friend, a dedicated supporter of our cause and believer in our faith. There will never be another like her, and I shall miss her more than words can express. May God’s Holy Angels now take care of her, as she joins a place more worthy of her than the one she has quit.

Diana Brewester died on 16 December 2003 and was cremated one month later at 11.00 am on 16 January 2004 at Islington & St Pancras Cemetery. Father Hubert Condron of St Joseph’s Catholic Church and I blessed the coffin with holy water during the funeral service as we both took it in turns to address those present. Panis Angelicus played as the curtains closed.

The Right Rev’d Seán Manchester

Then said Martha unto Jesus: Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died. But I know that even now, whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will give it Thee. Jesus saith unto her: Thy brother shall rise again. Martha saith unto Him: I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day. Jesus said unto her: I am the Resurrection and the Life; he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die. Believest thou this? She saith unto Him: Yea, Lord; I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God, who should come unto the world.

(The Holy Gospel is taken from the eleventh chapter of the Gospel according to St John, beginning at the twenty-first verse)

Click on the floral tribute (above) for the Last Farewell.