"...a story about my trousers..."

A friend asked me the other day, "What's your best Douglas story?"

We were talking over old times at a kind of unofficial Douglas Adams wake - one of presumably many that have gone on around the world recently. Upon thinking about it, I found it was rather like a conversation Douglas and I had recently about PG Wodehouse. We agreed that you can remember many funny things about the stories of PG Wodehouse, but if you mention them to people who haven't read them, they don't understand. The context isn't there.

And I can't remember Douglas and I trading many smartass comments that would travel well out of context. Which is odd, considering both of us tended to make smartass comments rather a lot. I expect there are some, but I've just forgotten them. Anyway, nobody likes a smartass.

That's not to say I don't have many memories of Douglas. The first words I ever heard Douglas say in person were "That's all very well, but first, I must tell you a story about my trousers."

At the time, I thought it was just the kind of thing I would have expected him to say. It was in Camden about five years ago, when I was at an interview for a job at The Digital Village - the company Douglas and others were starting.

I was late for the interview and so I was pretty stressed. I needn't have been - Douglas was, of course, impressively more late than I was. When he turned up, insisting that he tell us about his trousers, I was struck by the fact that on one hand, this was Douglas Adams - the Douglas Adams, mark you, not some cheap knock-off version - who was indeed, very tall, and with an imposing presence, and on the other hand, he seemed like an ordinary person, standing there in his jacket, aforementioned trousers, trademark bracelet and a battered briefcase.

Douglas instantly engaged me in what was probably the most interesting and entertaining job interview I've ever had - or ever will have. He quizzed me about what was and wasn't possible with natural language parsing. I explained the difference between what was possible, and what we could accomplish. He shoved a pre-release copy of Richard Dawkins' latest book under my nose, and asked about the possibility of synthesising 3D seashell models based on the parameters he had just read about in one chapter. It wasn't your average job interview. I'm glad to say, I got the job.

On hearing the news about Douglas on that fateful Friday, my immediate reaction was "It can't be true - he hasn't finished yet!". Today I still feel the same way.

I've just returned from LA, where I was attending E3, an electronic entertainment trade show. I was going to see Douglas there, and was looking forward to it, as I hadn't chatted to him in a few months, and was going to show him the latest work we had been doing.

To hear he left us so soon and so young is still something I can't really comprehend. I'm glad the last time we saw each other that we were able to talk about the directions our lives were taking, and if we liked those directions, and what we would really like to do, given the chance. As it turned out, we were all doing things quite close to our desires, so I think we ended up feeling pretty lucky. I'm sorry Douglas didn't get the chance to finish all the things he had planned - he really wasn't finished.

To my disappointment, I can no longer remember what was so interesting about Douglas' trousers on that particular day in Camden. I seem to remember it was funny, though.

In many ways, to those of us privileged to work with him, Douglas became "just zis guy, you know?" who was, at various times, funny, entertaining, frustrating, honest, sad, happy, frustrated and engaging.

The day I met Douglas, as he strode in on the wooden floor at the Camden studio, being impossibly tall and enthusiastically recounting trouser anecdotes, will always stay in my memory. As will the times he told us stories of the sorts of things that only ever happened to Douglas Noel Adams.

But I really do wish that I could remember what it was he told me about his trousers. In the meantime, I have other memories.

At times like this, friends console each other, and tell each other that, given time, things will be OK.

This must be some new usage of the word "OK" that I haven't previously encountered.

Tim

"The consequence of that is I have a huge backlog of story
ideas, and now the sort of panic is, 'Can I do them all
in the rest of my career, given the speed at which
they're arriving at the moment?'"

      -- Douglas Adams, April 2001