Flight from Fantasycon
I am writing from yet another hotel room. My brain is mush, my throat hurts and my nose is running like billy-o. Yes, I have con-lurg, and am now in the land of air-conditioning that is the US - of A - where it will undoubtedly get better in its own time.
So, a few days of exciting adventure! Well, indeed... N picked me up from work on Friday afternoon, and we crawled through the jams on the motorway to make it just in time for a lovely Thai meal with Ian Watson, Ian Whates, Andy Bigwood, Del and Kim Lakin-Smith, Paul Skevington and Sam Moffatt. It would have been lovelier if I hadn’t got curious about ‘cabbagey things’ that people bravely tried for me and which turned out to be chillis. Sorry!
Thence to the Olde Salutation Inn for Abaddon’s evening of Metal Karaoke, where I committed crimes against Evanescence, and if there were any justice in the world, Paul Melhuish should have won for his Dalek-like rendition of Iron Man. Jolly good fun. Just wish the DJ hadn’t been so deaf, as I am now too (not quite enough... read on). No need, as us oldies say... ah, I shall never hear a mosquito again!
We did go back to the bar after that, but it gets blurry...
We really only had one proper day at the con, but N and I managed to fit in quite a bit: we spent an hour manning the Newcon desk in the dealers room, which is nice for chatting to people passing by, before going to hear Chaz Brenchley talk to Bryan Talbot. Ah, desperance so wish I could have spoken to you more! I owe you a hug, you know.
I briefly chatted to the Angry Robots, Colin Harvey, Andy Remic and Mike Shevdon, who were suffering under the mountainous pile of books that Marco was cracking the whip for them to sign. The pile was so mountainous, I half expected Remic to start scaling it.
Then I got the lovely Bryan Talbot to sign my copy of Alice in Sunderland, and he drew me a Mad Hatter. That’s a book I like to look at whenever I have a blue moment... I just randomly choose a page, and it makes me realize that things are often very much worth the effort.
N and I also made Ian Whates and Mike Shevdon’s readings, and N also went to the launch of Never Again.
We grabbed some very mediocre fish and chips while other people went to Chutneys or the buffet-banquet. But boring chips were pepped up with the addition of a Cheesy Jack! What is a Cheesy Jack, I asked, to which I was told - look at the poster, and lo, there was a picture of what I could see keeping warm on the shelf. This didn’t really answer my question, so I bought it. It turned out that a Cheesy Jack is just cheese in batter. And yes, it is as horrid as it sounds.
We waited out the rest of the time in the bar with Johnny from Noose and Gibbet and then went into the BFS Awards where we were joined by fellow NSFWGer, Mark West. Two of our number were up for awards this year: Sarah Pinborough for Best Novella, and Ian Whates with Newcon Press for Best Small Press. Ian lost out to David Howes of Telos, but Sarah won her category - huzzah! And we all cheered when Rob Shearman won Best Collection, cos it’s fab and he is lovely.
We retired to the bar for more blurriness, and a chat with Neil Williamson, and Jordan Reyne and other peeps, followed by a tearful bye bye.
We were just on our second breakfast on Sunday, when Lee Harris came in, so he was the last person we saw at the con. It’s terrible speaking to Lee first thing... he’s so... awake, and bloody funny and witty. Grr!
But, all good things have to come to an end and I flew to Newark later on Sunday. I’ve been at work for a day now, and it’s great. The room is fit for a giant, though I have to say it’s really noisy. I can hear all the planes and I have the dehumidifier that works for the entire floor on constantly in my bathroom. It kept me awake last night, but I suspect I am too zonked for that to be the case tonight.
So, a few days of exciting adventure! Well, indeed... N picked me up from work on Friday afternoon, and we crawled through the jams on the motorway to make it just in time for a lovely Thai meal with Ian Watson, Ian Whates, Andy Bigwood, Del and Kim Lakin-Smith, Paul Skevington and Sam Moffatt. It would have been lovelier if I hadn’t got curious about ‘cabbagey things’ that people bravely tried for me and which turned out to be chillis. Sorry!
Thence to the Olde Salutation Inn for Abaddon’s evening of Metal Karaoke, where I committed crimes against Evanescence, and if there were any justice in the world, Paul Melhuish should have won for his Dalek-like rendition of Iron Man. Jolly good fun. Just wish the DJ hadn’t been so deaf, as I am now too (not quite enough... read on). No need, as us oldies say... ah, I shall never hear a mosquito again!
We did go back to the bar after that, but it gets blurry...
We really only had one proper day at the con, but N and I managed to fit in quite a bit: we spent an hour manning the Newcon desk in the dealers room, which is nice for chatting to people passing by, before going to hear Chaz Brenchley talk to Bryan Talbot. Ah, desperance so wish I could have spoken to you more! I owe you a hug, you know.
I briefly chatted to the Angry Robots, Colin Harvey, Andy Remic and Mike Shevdon, who were suffering under the mountainous pile of books that Marco was cracking the whip for them to sign. The pile was so mountainous, I half expected Remic to start scaling it.
Then I got the lovely Bryan Talbot to sign my copy of Alice in Sunderland, and he drew me a Mad Hatter. That’s a book I like to look at whenever I have a blue moment... I just randomly choose a page, and it makes me realize that things are often very much worth the effort.
N and I also made Ian Whates and Mike Shevdon’s readings, and N also went to the launch of Never Again.
We grabbed some very mediocre fish and chips while other people went to Chutneys or the buffet-banquet. But boring chips were pepped up with the addition of a Cheesy Jack! What is a Cheesy Jack, I asked, to which I was told - look at the poster, and lo, there was a picture of what I could see keeping warm on the shelf. This didn’t really answer my question, so I bought it. It turned out that a Cheesy Jack is just cheese in batter. And yes, it is as horrid as it sounds.
We waited out the rest of the time in the bar with Johnny from Noose and Gibbet and then went into the BFS Awards where we were joined by fellow NSFWGer, Mark West. Two of our number were up for awards this year: Sarah Pinborough for Best Novella, and Ian Whates with Newcon Press for Best Small Press. Ian lost out to David Howes of Telos, but Sarah won her category - huzzah! And we all cheered when Rob Shearman won Best Collection, cos it’s fab and he is lovely.
We retired to the bar for more blurriness, and a chat with Neil Williamson, and Jordan Reyne and other peeps, followed by a tearful bye bye.
We were just on our second breakfast on Sunday, when Lee Harris came in, so he was the last person we saw at the con. It’s terrible speaking to Lee first thing... he’s so... awake, and bloody funny and witty. Grr!
But, all good things have to come to an end and I flew to Newark later on Sunday. I’ve been at work for a day now, and it’s great. The room is fit for a giant, though I have to say it’s really noisy. I can hear all the planes and I have the dehumidifier that works for the entire floor on constantly in my bathroom. It kept me awake last night, but I suspect I am too zonked for that to be the case tonight.