Anybody who knows me is aware I have little or no concern for those who aren't friends and family. To be honest this is commonplace, but most are not comfortable admitting it. It was unusual then for me to be moved almost to tears by an article in this morning's Metro.
The award-winning author Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with Alzheimers, for which their is no cure. A man who, through sheer wit, talent and hard work makes the lives of hundreds of thousands of people that little bit better. I felt horrible guilt at the relief that washed over me at his promise to carry on writing. He is dying and I'm not thinking of his family, but rather whether or not I will get another fix of Pratchett wizardry.
However, as he himself stated...we are all dying, it is just a matter of when. Please Mr Pratchett, for all of us, don't leave us anytime soon. I would happily sit across the chessboard (being a rather competent player) from HIM, to contest any premature end to your writing.