The last week my mum was alive, I sat with her in her hospital room. She was unconscious, and it didn't feel right to have any noise in there unless I was talking quietly to her. I sat and read all the Watch books again. They were exactly the right kind of book to read then, and they helped me keep it together while my mum died - they were funny and clever and utterly serious, too. I think it is time for a re-read.
Thank you, Terry, for that week. Thank you for all the many weeks before and since. Thank you for Esme Weatherwax, and her ethics and her doubts. Thank you for Samuel Vimes, who is inexplicably one of the sexiest characters in fiction. Thank you for brave, glorious, kind Sybil Ramkin. Thank you for Sergeant Jackrum. Thank you for Thud, which is one of the best sideways examinations of diaspora politics I have ever read.
Thank you.