Sir Terry Pratchett — 28 April 1948 to 12 March 2015: Oh … Fuck …

Yes … 

I know … 

I don’t USUALLY swear in title of a post, here on Nik Nak’s Old Peculiar.

No, really … 

But I’ve just LITERALLY got home from my mothers.

I’ve been mowing her lawn, today, so you know.

There’s ALSO very few days when a piece of news makes me feel physically sick.

Today’s the day both happened.

Today is the day Sir Terry Pratchett — Alzheimer’s sufferer, Assisted Death campaigner, writer, ex-journalist, former publicity man for three nuclear generators, and, frankly, my literary hero — died.

And believe me, writing the word ‘died’ is possibly the most hideous word I can imagine writing.   And the most difficult.

Today, Terry Pratchett died.

And, right now … ?

I, along with many others, feel as if I’ve lost a friend.

~≈®≈~

Does that sound strange?

It possibly does.

But, yes.   I and others have lost a friend, today.

A friendship that, for me, started in the mid-1980s, when I first read both The Colour Of Magic, and The Light Fantastic.

I loved them.

One reason for that … ?

Was the blurb on the back of The Colour Of Magic.

Describing the novel as taking place on “… a flat world on the back of four elephants, on the back of a giant turtle (Sex, unknown).”

Sex, unknown.

THAT got me interested enough to actually sit down and READ the thing.

To find that the cover — complete with a box on legs — actually seemed to vaguely match the content of the book.

Although artist, Josh Kirby could have been a little less literal: Twoflower didn’t exactly have four eyes.

That … ?

That and the fact The Colour Of Magic had quite a cliffhanger ending: one resolved in The Light Fantastic?

That helped.

So did Equal Rites, a few months later.

Sir Terry had quite an output.   One that I’ve followed, ever since.

His work has made me examine the world with the benefit of his world view.

Sometimes angry: always thoughtful.

And ALWAYS making me laugh.

His work — in part — got me thinking writing was a good thing to do: even if only on the level of a blog.

Not professionally: that I leave to Debbi Mack, the Old Peculiar’s one regular contributor.

And possibly not well.   I can remember Sir Terry had said — in several interviews — that those who aspire to write should let punctuation and grammar enter Their lives.

And probably not very creatively.

Although I pride myself on having rarely repeated a Teaser question.

But he’s part — a small part — of why I write this blog.

That style, humour and output?

He wrote, in 2004’s Going Postal that “… a man is not dead while his name is still spoken”

Personally … ?

I feel Sir Terry’s  name will be spoken for some time.

That?   Is as it should be.

I can only hope that is reassuring to those — including his wife, Lyn and daughter, Rhianna — who thought well of him.

I offer my condolences to them

RIP, Sir Terry.