Today I am in mourning, for today one of my favourite authors stepped out of this world and into the next (if you believe in that kind of thing). That author is Sir Terry Pratchett. He had struggled for eight years with alzheimers and finally it got the better of him.

I first discovered the Discworld close to 30 years ago, when desperately seeking something new to read in our tiny local library. I had already exhausted the books considered appropriate for my age and the bright, cartoonish covers (buxom ladies not withstanding) attracted me. Since then I have been a dedicated fan and have read almost all of his books.

As far as humourous writers go, there is none that can compare and few that can reach just that right balance of comedy, social satire and humanity. There are few characters that come alive in your imagination as Nanny Ogg, Captain Vimes, Moist Von Lipwick and all the others conceptualised by Sir Pterry.

It has been over a year now since we saw the last Discworld novel, and the world seems somewhat paler for losing such a bright light. But authors never truly die, their ideas, their passion, their legacy, that lives on long after in the hearts and minds of those that read them. And what better legacy can there be, then to create a world so rich that so many dare to dream in it? Characters so strong that you wish that you could meet them, maybe even buy them a drink? Words that have inspired and enthralled complete strangers for almost 30 years?

That is something that we, as authors, can all strive for. Immortality, not through our genes (although Sir Pterry has that too) but through our brain-seeds.

So whilst his death is sad, and his affliction was tragic, we should celebrate his life - a life well lived.