would have been pleased to be making the headlines again. I was the last of his friends to see him, on the evening before he died, called to his care home in Glasgow's West End as his 'next of kin' in the legal sense. A gay man with no immediate family apart from a few cousins in Edinburgh, Canada and Tasmania, he needed someone to buy his shirts, accompany him on hospital visits, deposit cheques from literary earnings, or occasionally respond in writing to letters or requests. Even more occasionally, I helped him to draft poems that his hand was now too frail to write, but that his imagination knew should be written.from Scotsman: Pieces of Edwin Morgan: His closest friend tells his story
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