Amongst all the other weird and wonderful things that have been going on recently, I’ve been thinking about two things that I keep coming back around to. The first thing on my mind has been the role of an artist, the impact they have on the world around them and the impact that the world has on them. The second thing is Iain Banks, or more specifically, the recent passing of Iain Banks. The latter is something that I’ve mostly put to the back of my mind, because, quite frankly, the thought of it makes me feel sad. I didn’t know the man, I was once lucky enough to meet him, but it was a moment just like thousands of others for him and on no level do I claim the right of grief that people who actually did know him will be experiencing. But I can’t escape the fact that Iain Banks was, is, one of my literary heroes. If you have ever read my blog before you will know this well enough. So, because I don’t see it as a personal loss or upset that I have to bear, I’ve just opted not to think about it. I thought this was the best way to deal with it, or not deal with it as the case may be.