Even in his grimmest hour, Adrian Gill managed to be very funny:

“Someone should write a paper on the euphemistic size comparisons for tumours. There should be an esite, Euphotumours. The images are very masculine: golf balls, cricket balls, bullets, grenades, ruminant testicles. No one ever says, ‘I’ve got a cancer the size of a fairy cake’.” See his final piece in today’s Sunday Times.

I knew Gill only to shake his hand and exchange the occasional pleasantry, but he was as impressive in person as he was on the page. He seemed to be doing okay 10 days ago, so the news yesterday morning felt very sudden and very shocking. The thought of his nine-year-olds losing him two weeks before Christmas is too much to bear.