R.I.P. Harry Harrison. I met Harry three times (although I was hardly on first name terms with him): once at Novacon, where I bought him a pint; once at Glasgow Airport where I asked the check-in staff to 'look after him' on his flight to Gatwick; and once at Noreascon in Boston, where we walked together from the Marriott Hotel over that long
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I certainly didn't know that Soylent Green was based on his novel, which I'm now going to have to go and hunt down.
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