Record crowds for the opening of the Terry Pratchett: HisWorld exhibition.
“A different kind of audience” declared one observer. Meanwhile, Tristram Fane Saunders of the Telegraph wrote this on 16 September:
“Tolkien’s dead. JK Rowling said no. Philip Pullman couldn’t make it. Hi, I’m Terry Pratchett.” As self-deprecating introductions go, it’s a good one; Pratchett had it printed on a T-shirt for book events.
That shirt is currently on show at the Salisbury Museum, along with his hat, sword, paintings, typewriter, Blue Peter badge, computer hard drive (recently crushed by steamroller, in accordance with the late author’s wishes) and every part of his office that wasn’t nailed down. In an eerie touch that he would have relished, invisible fingers clack away at Pratchett’s keyboard; stand long enough, and you’ll see the first page of a novel write itself.
Assembling all of this joyous clutter is a triumph for Pratchett’s local museum, a Grade I listed gem not far from the Salisbury chalkland that inspired much of his finest writing.