Trains, Idiot Mitts and Starbucks.
The saga of James stalking, London style. Other wise known as...
Trains, Idiot Mitts and Starbucks.
Being a sensible bunny who wanted to ensure she got to London in plenty of time to meet everyone before queuing became a vital fact of life, I caught the 7:30 am train from Camarthen. This, by all that was right and proper, should have brought me into Paddington at a respectable 11:30 am, but I reckoned without the wonders of British rail service. At the time I should have been gearing up with everyone else and discussing the best method of ripping the clothing from certain undersized actors, I was stuck on the line between Bridgend and Swansea cursing whatever sheep/car/child had decided Friday was a good day to stop on the line until the train hit it.
*sigh*
After much frantic public phonebox use at Cardiff - no, I don’t have a mobile - I managed to let the right people know that waiting for me would be a torturous business and that I’d meet them at the hotel when, and if, I ever arrived.
I did, of course, though too early to claim my fare back since I was only 3 hours later, not four. But in one piece and raring to go.
Having found the hotel and successfully booking in, I was told that ‘my group’ had just that moment left.
“Go and chase them,” the lovely helpful receptionist said.
“Great idea,” says me, “Except I wouldn’t know them if I fell over them.” Such are the perils of meeting people from LJ.
Anyhow, I’m in the room having a, much welcomed, pee after 6 hours on public transport, when I hear voices. Upon exiting, I get jumped by someone who turns out to be kitty_poker1.
Aside - One of the great things about meeting fellow fens, so I discovered in Las Vegas, is the hug and squee first- ask names afterwards, phenomenon. Such fun, until you end up hugging random passersby who then back away hurriedly from the gangs of enthusiastic females.
Apparently the receptionist was wrong and only half the gang had gone pub hunting, but she’d flagged them down on their way back past the hotel and told them I’d arrived. Mucho goodness and indicative of the great little hotel. I would definitely stay there again.
After meeting deborahmm who was already looking a bit shifty and was obviously missing the chance to stick something up Spike’s bottom, we ended up in the other room where I discovered evilmaniclaugh was in the shower and that shouting at her through the door was just as easy as chatting on IM. There was also introductions and immediate bonding with madders, another rabid Spangeler and thus my soul mate.
When Liz finally emerged - looking not at all like a drowned rat - more bonding was had, and mutual reassurances that in fact none of us were axe murderers, just sexual deviants who wished to watch certain vampires/actors have mad monkey sex.
*phew*
Good to know the world is populated by normal people.
Kitty vanished off to the pub, leaving me, Madders and Debs Liz-sitting. This involved more squeeage and so much giggling I’m still surprised we weren’t chucked out on the spot. Eventually Liz managed to find her head and her mobile phone and her ticket all at the same time and we headed out in determined fashion to meet up with Kitty and the others and thence to start queuing, an on-going feature of the weekend.
Pubwards-ho turned out to be a short trip when a timely call placed our missing members inside the large red pub we standing out side of, the one two doors down from the hotel. Inside I met ficbictabear and sukibluefiction and proceeded to down two bottles of Smirnoff ice. The two events were not related.
Eventually, after an egg and cress butty and much very loud conversation about boy-porn and man-sex that inexplicably seemed to upset the elderly chap sitting nearby, we headed out in search of the venue. This involved catching a bus and, since no one told me Kitty didn’t have a ticket, I managed split our group up when I leapt on the nearest one and whizzed up to the back seat.
The venue, when we finally found it, turned out to be in the middle of a shopping precinct and already boasted a queue of impressive proportions. Seems quite a few people wanted to see the little Jimmy. Another feature of the weekend.
vic_amy_z was already there, saving us a spot *cough* honest *cough*, and was as beautiful and squishy as ever. Introductions all round - lonelybrit and princess_s, more squeeing and much enthusiasm. Then we settled down for a real good queue. It’s entirely possible my feet will never be the same again. The skinny actor has much to answer for.
Conversation in the queue followed the standard pattern for the trip, man-sex, boy-porn and what Debs is gonna stick up Spike’s bottom next time. After many many hours - actually only about one but it felt like way longer what with the sore feet and overwhelming urge to sit down, vampirefever turned up and then sueworld2003. Again more squeeage and random hugging.
Despite the best attempts of the fengirls at the front to convince the organisers that we were all rabidly insane and should be locked up, not let in, the doors were finally opened and the hordes allowed to stampede up the stairs. Liz and I immediately headed for the bar, eschewing the seething crowd gathering by the stage on the grounds that ‘no one, not even skinny actors’ are worth not having a drink for. Then we found a spot by the edge and hit the floor with much relief to our sore feet.
This was where Ali found us a few minutes later and passed on the wondrous news that the upstairs boasted a couch and another bar. At that point wild horses couldn't have prevented us following her up the extra level and the comforts of a decent seat.
I really am getting old.
More later.
Trains, Idiot Mitts and Starbucks.
Being a sensible bunny who wanted to ensure she got to London in plenty of time to meet everyone before queuing became a vital fact of life, I caught the 7:30 am train from Camarthen. This, by all that was right and proper, should have brought me into Paddington at a respectable 11:30 am, but I reckoned without the wonders of British rail service. At the time I should have been gearing up with everyone else and discussing the best method of ripping the clothing from certain undersized actors, I was stuck on the line between Bridgend and Swansea cursing whatever sheep/car/child had decided Friday was a good day to stop on the line until the train hit it.
*sigh*
After much frantic public phonebox use at Cardiff - no, I don’t have a mobile - I managed to let the right people know that waiting for me would be a torturous business and that I’d meet them at the hotel when, and if, I ever arrived.
I did, of course, though too early to claim my fare back since I was only 3 hours later, not four. But in one piece and raring to go.
Having found the hotel and successfully booking in, I was told that ‘my group’ had just that moment left.
“Go and chase them,” the lovely helpful receptionist said.
“Great idea,” says me, “Except I wouldn’t know them if I fell over them.” Such are the perils of meeting people from LJ.
Anyhow, I’m in the room having a, much welcomed, pee after 6 hours on public transport, when I hear voices. Upon exiting, I get jumped by someone who turns out to be kitty_poker1.
Aside - One of the great things about meeting fellow fens, so I discovered in Las Vegas, is the hug and squee first- ask names afterwards, phenomenon. Such fun, until you end up hugging random passersby who then back away hurriedly from the gangs of enthusiastic females.
Apparently the receptionist was wrong and only half the gang had gone pub hunting, but she’d flagged them down on their way back past the hotel and told them I’d arrived. Mucho goodness and indicative of the great little hotel. I would definitely stay there again.
After meeting deborahmm who was already looking a bit shifty and was obviously missing the chance to stick something up Spike’s bottom, we ended up in the other room where I discovered evilmaniclaugh was in the shower and that shouting at her through the door was just as easy as chatting on IM. There was also introductions and immediate bonding with madders, another rabid Spangeler and thus my soul mate.
When Liz finally emerged - looking not at all like a drowned rat - more bonding was had, and mutual reassurances that in fact none of us were axe murderers, just sexual deviants who wished to watch certain vampires/actors have mad monkey sex.
*phew*
Good to know the world is populated by normal people.
Kitty vanished off to the pub, leaving me, Madders and Debs Liz-sitting. This involved more squeeage and so much giggling I’m still surprised we weren’t chucked out on the spot. Eventually Liz managed to find her head and her mobile phone and her ticket all at the same time and we headed out in determined fashion to meet up with Kitty and the others and thence to start queuing, an on-going feature of the weekend.
Pubwards-ho turned out to be a short trip when a timely call placed our missing members inside the large red pub we standing out side of, the one two doors down from the hotel. Inside I met ficbictabear and sukibluefiction and proceeded to down two bottles of Smirnoff ice. The two events were not related.
Eventually, after an egg and cress butty and much very loud conversation about boy-porn and man-sex that inexplicably seemed to upset the elderly chap sitting nearby, we headed out in search of the venue. This involved catching a bus and, since no one told me Kitty didn’t have a ticket, I managed split our group up when I leapt on the nearest one and whizzed up to the back seat.
The venue, when we finally found it, turned out to be in the middle of a shopping precinct and already boasted a queue of impressive proportions. Seems quite a few people wanted to see the little Jimmy. Another feature of the weekend.
vic_amy_z was already there, saving us a spot *cough* honest *cough*, and was as beautiful and squishy as ever. Introductions all round - lonelybrit and princess_s, more squeeing and much enthusiasm. Then we settled down for a real good queue. It’s entirely possible my feet will never be the same again. The skinny actor has much to answer for.
Conversation in the queue followed the standard pattern for the trip, man-sex, boy-porn and what Debs is gonna stick up Spike’s bottom next time. After many many hours - actually only about one but it felt like way longer what with the sore feet and overwhelming urge to sit down, vampirefever turned up and then sueworld2003. Again more squeeage and random hugging.
Despite the best attempts of the fengirls at the front to convince the organisers that we were all rabidly insane and should be locked up, not let in, the doors were finally opened and the hordes allowed to stampede up the stairs. Liz and I immediately headed for the bar, eschewing the seething crowd gathering by the stage on the grounds that ‘no one, not even skinny actors’ are worth not having a drink for. Then we found a spot by the edge and hit the floor with much relief to our sore feet.
This was where Ali found us a few minutes later and passed on the wondrous news that the upstairs boasted a couch and another bar. At that point wild horses couldn't have prevented us following her up the extra level and the comforts of a decent seat.
I really am getting old.
More later.