I was heartbroken to see the news that Sir Terry Pratchett had died. I grew up reading his books, and my career aspiration is still to become Granny Weatherwax.
In two years, we’ve lost Iain Banks and Sir Terry. I’m in the mood to demand a 24-hour armed guard and medical team to follow Neil Gaiman, just because I couldn’t stand to lose him too.
I heard the news just before I had to go out, and shortly afterwards I ran into a friend who is very religious. She asked how I was, and I was briefly tempted to tell her the news. But I worried that she’d tell me that he had gone to a better place, and I didn’t want to hear that.
And then I imagined what he would have said about that, and for just a moment I actually managed to be glad that he had lived, rather than sad that he had died.
Rest in peace, Sir Terry.