‘Oh, she’s gone’ (he pronounces it gorne), ‘I hope she’s going to come back. ‘And she has a broomstick’ says Clare, before disappearing to loiter outside and keep track of the time. ‘I have visited concentric circles in my time,’ says Terry and laughs. And you’re more used to witches than the average author, I believe.’ I can hear him laughing outside in the corridor, and Clare introduces us, ‘Terry, here is Ann.’ Clare brings a jug of water and looks round and then beats the cushion in the chair I’m intending for Terry. All furnished by IKEA, as is the norm these days. While Random’s Clare fumes over the late running interview in an adjoining room, I’m setting my stuff up in the stark little room where I’m waiting for Terry. Although, as you will have to admit, a photographer would have been a good thing. But other than that, I’m happy to be doing this. To make my feelings of guilt even worse, the meeting is taking place on his 21st birthday. Here I am at the National Theatre in London, waiting to speak to Terry Pratchett, a favourite of the son who’s unable to come along and be my photographer. I’ve never felt so guilty over interviewing someone before.
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