Remembering 'a phenomenal talent' in Exmouth's musical community | Opinion

Ed: Alexandra Airth, 38, died by suicide in June 2020 while living in supported accommodation for individuals with mental health issues in Exmouth.

I read with much sadness and regret two weeks ago, the results of an inquest into the death of someone during Covid who had become part of something I'm lucky enough to call my community. And I feel compelled to write about both her circumstances, and to celebrate the music community in Exmouth I feel proud to consider myself part of.

Alex was a phenomenal talent musically. She sang, played keys, rapped and recorded music. Effectively, due to her mental health conditions, and the fact that she was unable to leave her supportive living home in Exmouth during lockdown, she took her own life. She died of Covid without ever contracting it.

Alex was a part of Exmouth's musical community, and had for the previous two years or so, slowly gained the confidence to come and share her incredible piano playing talent and singing voice at local open mic nights. We knew she was troubled, where she lived and how difficult she felt life was in the period before the pandemic, but as the inquest revealed, we supported her, and gave her hope. Those two or three occasions during the week where she could escape her world and be free. Be sociable and make some noise. 

When the pandemic hit, all that obviously stopped. During one of my 'hour of daily exercise' sessions, I walked past where she lived and she excitedly ran across the garden to greet me. She asked me to come in for coffee, and I explained that I couldn't. She didn't understand, for whatever reason, the impact of lockdown and what it meant. I felt awful but could do nothing.

When we returned to lockdown later in the year, I received many phone calls from Alex, asking if we could get together to play music. Again, much to her bemusement and frustration, I had to obviously say I couldn't help out. A couple of months later, she was clearly in a desperate state when she again phoned. She clearly needed support from her community but again the situation meant it wasn't really possible. I was unable to go and help her personally at that point, something which, given what transpired a few days later, troubles me to this day.

Alex died by suicide in her room within 36 hours of that phone call. The inquest revealed that her own struggles with mental health coupled with her isolation from those she felt supported her most drove her to such lengths.

She was an incredible musician with no musical training, just innate talent. And she could be difficult, delightful or a combination of the two. But we took her under our wing.

I wrote to Simon Jupp to outline how angry I felt about the contrast between Alex's situation and what has allegedly occurred at Downing Street with regards to parties. I received a caring and thoughtful response, for which I truly thank Simon. I hope he considers cases like these when any investigations into such matters conclude.

———

Exmouth's musical community contains a strange diaspora of human life that comes together organically whenever it can. Gigs, jam nights, community events or just socially. It covers a wide range of styles and ages, where retirees will get up and play the harmonica with youngsters taking their first tentative steps towards playing live music. It's the complete antithesis of the manufactured Britain's Got Talent style of musical growth that has dominated so long.

But the most important thing about the community is the way it supports itself, its unofficial members and looks to help those around it. If someone's not all right, we all worry. We do what we can to help practically, and there's always someone there to support you, or even if you just need a good old fashioned moan! That's without the fundraising and charity gigs that people donate their time to. 

And anyone is welcome. Come and join in, watch, whatever!

So Alex, though you weren't with us long, please know that you've made a difference to our community - you're greatly missed by a group of people I'm proud to be a part of.