How do you tackle a book about your best mate who is dying of brain cancer? Do you write it in the ‘here and now’, knowing that it may not even be published before he dies, or do you write it in past tense as if he’s already gone? I struggled with this dilemma when I was almost finished putting this book together and I still don’t know if it’s going to make sense. I’d had an idea that I wanted to get Prousty’s poems into some kind of permanent record for posterity; for his family, friends and fans; and for my own satisfaction. In attempting to achieve this I also had to acknowledge that there are so many weird and wonderful stories in Prousty’s life, it would be impossible for me to cover everything, so I’ve attempted to select as many ‘unique’ stories as I could and weave them with the poems into a tribute to Prousty. I just hope he gets to see it.