Time is a drug. Too much of it kills you. - Terry Pratchett RIP

Just for a change this is both a highly personal entry and one that has little or nothing to do with toy soldiers, for which I make no apology.  I do hope that you will understand my reasons.

I've just digested the news of the untimely death of Sir Terry Pratchett and I would like to take the opportunity that this platform allows me to share my views on the passing of this intelligent, sharp,perceptive, witty and very Human writer.

I first came across 'The Colour of Magic' while I was working at Games Workshop back in the 1980s.  We were selling SF and fantasy books at the time and the bookstore agent told us about this new book which should do well with our customers as it catered to our specialist little market.   Little did any of us realise at the time as to what a literary phenomonen that was about to be set upon the world.

Some 70 million book sales later, for me, half a lifetime, and the Pratchett legacy is immense and I hope long-lasting.   Terry's Discworld series very quickly progressed from a fantasy parody to become a vehicle for taking a wry sidewise and insightful look at some very relevant and contemporary issues.   Peel away the veneer of Dwarves, Elves and nicotine-addicted Wizards with questionable dress-sense and you can see him tackling big issues such as racism, sexism, religious intolerance, the effect of progress on society, nationalism, bigotry, the banking crisis and the building of a civic society.    All of this done with a huge dollops of wit, humour and a compassionate understanding of what makes us all tick.  Not bad for someone all too often dismissed by the chattering classes and literati.   That he was never nominated for a 'serious' literary award was the Booker prize's loss and a monument to the folly of self-defining 'literature'.

On a personal note, the Discworld and related books have been my constant companions for the last three decades and memories of my first readings of them coincide with major periods and events. They have become woven into the fabric of my life's journey, and I am sad beyond words to think that the future will be impoverished for the lack of them. 

So it's 'Goodbye', Sir Terence David John Pratchett.   Thank you so very much for all the laughs, chuckles, groans and hours of entertainment.   May your walk across the dark desert be short and pleasant and I hope that you get to exchange a few meaningful words with that tall osseous gentleman in the black robe on the way.   I will miss you.

Peter