Over the years, I've learned that Harry Harrison not only writes stories, he creates them... Everyone who meets him comes away with either stories that Harry has told, or accounts of adventures perpetrated by Harry Harrison.

The first time I met him was at a signing in Dublin, September 1987. After Harry politely answered my questions and signed my books, I hung around like a demented groupie - which I was - before I became self-conscious and wandered away. I returned more than an hour later, and people were still queueing. When the crowds finally died down, a few hangers-on like myself had some time to chat to Harry.

One of the hangers-on was really, really out of place. She was interviewing him for a college newspaper or something, and we could all tell that she had no idea who he was. But Harry - ever the gentleman - was extremely courteous and patient to her, until she revealed the absolute depth of her lack of knowledge...

"Harry, do you believe in UFOs?"

"I do," Harry said, and she beamed and began furiously scribbling in her notebook as he continued: "I believe in UFOs, and Atlantis, the Bermuda Triangle, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, that our ancestors were alien visitors, pyramid power, a hollow Earth, ley lines, and the teachings of the Catholic Church."

Harry came to the rescue at Eurocon 1997: It was to have been the largest SF convention ever held in Ireland. But, somehow, it all went pear-shaped: for reasons that remain cloudy to this day, all but one of the original committee resigned. A few friends and I volunteered to help out. Then we learned that the air-fare to fly the intended GoH from the US to Ireland was going to cost way more than twice what we expected to take in at the con. After a series of frantic phone calls and faxes, he pulled out of the con, and we were left with a vacant GoH spot to fill.

I phoned Harry, explained the situation and asked if he'd be our GoH. Harry immediately agreed. Thankfully, he didn't want or need first-class air-fare, or accommodation, or any fancy treatment: "get me a bottle of whiskey!" he said.

"Really? Is that all? There must be something else we can do for you!"

He paused to consider the offer. "Good whiskey!"

If it hadn't been for Harry and Joan, we'd never have made it through the con - they kept us sane when all was chaos, they calmed us down when we were nervous, they sorted out problems we'd thought unsolvable...

So here's to you, Harry, on your 75th birthday! All Cheer!

Michael Carroll