I've been re-reading Feet of Clay (one of my favourites) at work during lunchtimes. It fills me with so many emotions: awe at how well-constructed it is; a little envy, because I've been constructing and writing stories myself for the last 20 years (and reading Pterry's work for 15), and it's hard work - yet Pterry makes it look so easy; absorbed attention, learning how the master does it; biting my lip at the philosophical moments, and during the sad moments, to stop crying; uncontrollable giggles during the funny bits. Sigh. Yes, Pterry's books still reduce me to a complete mess. And I miss him. :-(
I just read this, published on the Guardian on the day. It brought all back - how reading Pterry's books opened my eyes to the fact that fantasy - and other genres - could, and should, be funny and sad and philosophical, one by one or all at once. I've been applying that lesson in my own writing ever since.
So yes, thank you, Terry. Thank you for everything.