Like Lucy, I was at University with Sean, doing the same course. I knew he had been diagnosed with Leukaemia as we had kept loosley in touch via e-mail of late, the commitments of family life having seen me move to Nottingham and taken away much of my ‘free time’ for keeping up with old friends very diligently. The last time I saw him was at my wedding 12 years ago. I had a feeling because I hadn’t heard from him that things were not good, but had no contact details for anyone who might have known the situation.

I echo all that Lucy says above about our time at University, and would like to add that Sean was a true friend to me at a time when I wasn’t always finding life easy. He was without doubt a most gifted writer and artist, but always had time for me and my struggles to ‘keep up’, giving me lots of help and encouragement.

I’m so glad that he reached so many of his goals within the world of publishing and writing that was so important to him. I will fondly remember our ‘heart to hearts’ on the bus trip from campus back up the Bristol Road to where we lived in Birmingham, not to mention how Sean and I played squash every week without fail. He was loads better than me but often let me win and, typically, carried on this routine although I’m sure he would have had a better game with someone else!

My thoughts go out to Sean’s family and friends. I wish I could have said goodbye but I welcome this opportunity to express how I feel today (very very sad)

Kate Ward (was Dash)

Danny

He was a truly wonderful person, as you say. When I think of him I think of his unusual combination of creative spirit with conservative, responsible man, his blue eyes, his smile, his knackered clothes, his funny walk, his way of looking at you very intensely and opening his eyes wide. I think of how he loved Gatsby. At Uni he had the ending typed out on a little card:

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

The paragraph before that seems fitting too… he loved all that American west mythology: “And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.”

I wish I could talk to him, that he hadn’t suffered, that I could have helped. I wish I hadn’t taken life for granted and seen him more and that he was still alive.

I’m so glad he achieved what he did and that he enjoyed his life so much. If there is any way I can be involved in anything to remember him, I would love to. Also I would really like to write to his family, so any contact details you have with them I would be so grateful for.
Thanks again for sharing your memories of him, and please accept my sympathies for your loss. I’d really appreciate a response if you can. This is all a big shock right now but I’m hoping that I can do something for him to remember him by.
all very best
Lucy

(was Williams)

Havng read a formatve chapter he was intrigued and promised to publish it, which he did in 2003.

Sean became a friend and a client and his death is a very sad loss to not only his many friends but also to London and the publishing world.

I read your blog comment, and of course it was about the other side of Sean, his professional side, that I didn’t see. It comes as no surprise to learn how good he was, and that he took his admirable personal qualities into his business.

Your comments about Sean made me very proud, thanks. Although he did like some very strange music.

Bernard

Best, Jon