because a publisher asked me for a youthful photo and I had nothing better to do, being so-o-o stuck in bed, I pestered Ezi until he found a photo of me.
It’s probably the best photo of me ever. There was a photographer, in a studio at Sibleys, and although I was thrilled with the dress (whose was it, I wonder) I was so nervous about going into a strange room with a strange man, I started to cry. So he gave me this little basket to hold, and it made all the difference.