Whatever mistakes you have made with your life, you don't deserve to be gunned down. I can't see anything inevitable about the way he died.

At the time, I felt initially.......relief. The first thing you thought of when you heard part of that crowd had died was - drugs. At least it wasn't one more stick the Thatcher generation could beat us up with - for the supposed self-indulgence and self-absorption of our generation. (Though there was precious little of that allowed in my own youth.)

Afterwards, I felt nothing but sadness and admiration for him. For here surely was a man who had achieved all the things that James Joyce had set out as the stereotype for an artist. Someone who had flown by the nets of nationality, family expectation, the snares of religon and society - and had used his freedom most creatively.

all the best to all my fellow artists this morning

al