No, the plural is not ‘Little Our’

4 10 2015

I am woefully slack at posting about (*insert subject of choice here*), but I feel I need to share this as a moment of unscripted serendipity — which, I believe you will agree, is quite the very best kind of serendipity. At Conflux, on Friday morning, I was still in the process of setting up the ASIM / Peggy Bright Books / Dragonwell Publishing dealers’ table when Gillian Polack, local author, historian, ancient food aficionado, and last year’s GUFF delegate, approached those present to ask if they would mind posing for a photo with Little My (because, at Loncon or shortly thereafter, Gillian received a Little My doll from the Finnish fans, and she has since been taking Little My on a World Tour of Australia, and uploading the photos). Who can resist the offer of a photo with Little My? Certainly not your obedient correspondent, who is something of a Tove Jansson tragic. And certainly not when having quite independently decided that morning to wear, for the very first time, this brand-new tee-shirt:


The room lighting’s not ideal, and I’m not holding the 3-D Little My too elegantly: I was concerned that both the 2-D and 3-D versions should be clearly visible … and I never photograph well. But enough excuses.

I shall call her … Mini-My.




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