(This post was originally written on the original stuffianlikes blog the day after Sir Terry passed. I’ve tidied up some grammatical errors and added a couple of pictures but this is otherwise the way it appeared 4 years-minus-a-day-ago)

I usually dwell on these posts for bloody ages but this one needs to be gotten down quickly or it will never be done.

It’s 1985. I’m a weedy, bespectacled kid of 15 with acne, bad hair and a desire to see more of other worlds. I see a new book on the shelves of Angus & Robertson on my weekly trip into Hobart to bookshop crawl. The Colour Of Magic, by Terry Pratchett. It’s thin but the cover looks great and the blurb sounds pretty cool (I have no idea who Jerome K. Jerome is but I still think Douglas Adams is funny so half of it has worked) so I’ll…