Another little part of my childhood has gone. Anne McCaffrey passed away recently. I read and re-read her books in my early adolescence; they were my escape from the trials of a suburban youngster.

Not heavy trials in my case, but the usual; fitting in, boredom at school, the sad realities of everyday living. I had no sporting ability, I wasn’t especially gifted in any way; neither was I cool or popular and, more importantly to me, I couldn’t secretly fly, do magic or speak to animals. I was a bookworm, an observer rather than a participator, and an escapist.

Maybe it appeared that I was stuck in this reality, but to me, Pern was the place where I actually lived for a couple of years and my closest companion and soul-mate was a huge golden dragon.

So, thank you, Anne McCaffrey, for helping me get through those years and for creating strong and believable heroines who inspired me and who I could relate to. I owe you.

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