Remembering the Buckdancer

Relaxing in London for a couple of days before the World Fantasy Convention.  Had a book signing at Forbidden Planet last night that brought in a long line, more than an hour of signing, and then I signed a couple of hundred for their stock.  Then a late dinner chez John and Judith Clute.

We're staying in the Holiday Inn by the canal in Camden, in a room with two beds and not quite enough space for two people to stand up.  It does have WiFi, though, for four pounds a day (half price because they liked the cut of our jib.

This morning Gay went out to follow Judith on her London Walks tour of Camden Town.  I should be working, but the Time Literary Supplement caught my eye with a review of _James Dickey -- The Complete Poems_, which I think I must have, even for $85.  If you were reading this column  thirty years ago, you might have read about my encounter with Dickey.  I won a week's fellowship, writing poetry with him.  He said I was his favorite science fiction writer, though I don't think he knew that many.

The recollection does make me feel a little old this morning.  At seventy, I suppose I am old to most of my readers -- well, all of them, even my contemporaries.  Thanks for putting up with my senile maunderings.

Joe