I grew up listening to Dolly Parton, not through choice, but because my Mum was a big fan. On long car journeys, songs like Jolene and Islands In The Stream lodged themselves in my head so firmly that I could probably still summon whole passages without trying.
Country music has never really been my world, but Dolly Parton was always bigger than genre. You could hear the craft in the writing, see the intelligence in the way she carried herself, and feel the warmth of someone who understood exactly where she came from and never seemed embarrassed by it.
She had that rare quality of being instantly recognisable without ever becoming a caricature. The hair, the rhinestones, the wit, the voice, all of it belonged to a woman who knew precisely what she was doing.
More than 100 million records sold, thousands of songs written, 11 Grammys, films, television, Dollywood, literacy programmes, scholarships, charity work, and a career that stretched across generations. That’s some life.
I’m glad she got her Glastonbury moment. I’m glad she lived long enough to see how deeply her songs had travelled, and how many people they had reached.
Most of all, I’m glad she shared her gift.
Those long car journeys feel a little more precious tonight.
Dolly Parton will be missed.