The death of someone we don't know is a strange, strange thing. That person isn't part of our lives. He isn't 'essential' to our being. We won't mourn with grief unending. Yet, I still feel enormous sadness when that someone is John Mortimer. The tears flow as if I did know him. And maybe I did, a little. We've all heard that Rumpole, dear, dear Horace was very like his creator. I've read and reread the series so much that I feel as if I know Mr Mortimer. I put a picture of him on the blog not too long ago, and it is one I dearly love. But I love this one even more with his daughter, one of my favorite actresses, Emily Mortimer. It is from a piece in The Times.
I don't really have any more words. I just loved him, without knowing him, as perhaps all readers love a favorite writer. May he and P.G. Wodehouse be having a lovely time together in the Heaven that two of my favorite writers now share.