Reginald Hill has died and The Telegraph obituary is both a lovely tribute and a reminder of why it is that Mr Hill wrote some of my all time favourite books, how it was that he will always be one of my favourite authors.
It's times like this when you realise what a craft, what a gift, being able to write is. The words that Mr Hill used to weave his stories, to convey emotion, pictures and points, well I don't have that skill and, right now, I profoundly regret that lack.
I will miss this man's words.
The world is a significantly less sparkly place this week.