I was a little shattered to hear that Anne McCaffery died 21 November last year. My sister mentioned it yesterday when she saw me browsing through her copy of The White Dragon. She is one of a handful of writers that got me through my early years a relatively sane - ish person. I remember receiving one of her books on the birthday I spent in hospital. I had an excellent stay. Napping and reading and napping and reading and watching a nun paint a big square pillar with scenes of Jack & Jill.
Whenever I was unhappy or struggling to go to sleep I would imagine myself on Pern. Sometimes impressing a dragon. Sometimes a fire lizard. Sometimes just working in a hold weaving or something. I could never really cast myself as someone working in a weir cause they all seemed so secure in themselves and confident and even in my fantasies I was never secure in myself or confident - lol