Mostly harmless

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I’ve always loved books. Don’t read nearly as many of them as I’d like, mind, and I’ve read hardly any of all those books that Everyone Should Read. But I have my own classics, not least amongst them The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and the rest of the works of Douglas Adams. I’ve been waiting for a new book by Adams for years, so it was with a somewhat selfish but no less real sadness that I heard of his death of a heart attack at the age of 49. Which is definitely one of those ages at which people really shouldn’t be dying. He was in Santa barbara at the time, and I suppose if you’ve got to go, you might as well be in California.

I still wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that it’s all a ruse to avoid a particularly irksome deadline, but that’s just wishful thinking. So I’m off to read the whole lot again, just to remind myself of how good they are and what it is we’ve lost. And it’s cheesy but I’m going to say it anyway: So long, Douglas, and thanks for all the fish…