I'm calling this one 'Bridget'

Now, if any of you are previously unadvertised dwarves, then please stop reading here - this blog post may offend you.  Likewise if you have a thing for the little people.  Stop reading now.  You'll only walk away upset.

I've been struggling for a post for a couple of days now, my trip to the UK being singularly, uninspiringly dull.  Truly, nothing at all happened.  Shocking.  I felt like I was living in a fun vacuum.  Anyway, I was lamenting my lack of inspiration to my lovely 'world's favourite' friend who I'll call CToM (short for 'coffee, tea or me?') and this little nugget popped out.

And what a little nugget she was.  

Standing no more than 2 feet tall, she proudly marched her way out of Lyon Part Dieu station this afternoon, dragging behind her a trolley suitcase that was bigger than she was.  It was one of those that fit easily under the seat in front of you.  The bag, that is.  Although she'd have fit down there nicely too, if I'm to be frank.

And what a beauty she was too.

She had the hair and face of a mini Zena, Warrior Princess, and she carried herself like a proper little Boadicea too.  She wasn't one of those with stumpy arms and a big head (excuse the medical terms here), you know the 'small hands, smells of cabbage' variety.  Oh no.  She was a perfectly proportioned person.  But tiny.  Teeny tiny.  Teeny weeny tiny.

Normally I have to look away when it comes to the wee folk.  It's all down to the time at work when I accused a tiny man of pissing on the toilet seat (it WAS him, I know it was).  

Having overheard me accusing him to a colleague in the staff canteen one lunchtime, he came and confronted me at my desk.  That's how - in an open plan office, in front of 150 colleagues - I found myself having a stand up row about personal daintiness with a man less than half my height.  Awful.  And traumatic.  The kind of thing you never recover from.

But I digress.  As I was sat on the train home, I was thinking how lovely it would be to be so little.  She'd never have to pay much to travel anywhere.  She could just throw a couple of blankets and a Balisto or two into a box, label herself up and post herself to her destination.

And don't forget the wonders of FedEx.  No matter where she was going in the world, she'd always arrive before 9am.

She may have missed her gig on the Yellow Brick Road, but what's being a friend of Dorothy compared to travel perks like that?

Lucky little lady.