Except Random_C, who had lost a corset, and was therefore not packed. The corset she had was not able to allow her to fit into a particular costume. The corset she had, however, had laces. Strong laces. And I was in a hurry. Knee in back, tug, *Squeak*…now Random_C fitted the costume. We’d solve the breathing problem later…
Bright was the mor…um…afternoon. Light was my heart. Blue was Random_C’s complexion as we Josephined forth. Nothing could go wrong. All was organised. Including, it turned out, the 6 ¼ hours worth of accidents, road works and breakdowns. (3 mechanical, and one nervous). The Thursday night pub-quiz therefore didn’t happen to us. Too tired. Home, and bed.
Brigh…oh, you get the idea. Friday morning saw us Wilhelmina forth to the NEC. Nothing could go wr…why did the car not start? Oh…that’d be because having paid a garage incredible quantities of money to fit the second new starter motor in the space of two weeks, they’d forgotten, in their haste to deprive me of enough money to feed and clothe myself for six month, to connect the battery. An easy fix. Only a little blood. I only live 20 minutes away from the NEC. Erm…let me rephrase that. I *would* only live 20 minutes away if the local council had signposted the fact that they had closed the main route from my house to the M6. As it turns out, I live 15 minutes from Bulkington, 22 minutes from Bedworth and 35 minutes from the M6, 45 minutes from the NEC. Where, in our haste to arrive, I discovered that neither of us actually knew where the hell we were going.
Found it! I used the normal method of Discworld event location. Drive around slowly until you spot a number of hotel staff with stunned, glazed and confused looks on their faces, chainsmoking. Bingo! Gosh, innit big?! And posh! A revolving door! A foreign chap who took one look at Random_C and directed us, unasked, to the Discworld registration. Which irked Herself, as she was dressed in her normal day-to-day clothing.
What I love about any Discworld event is the friendship, the companionship, and the coffee. People I have not seen for a year or more amble up and resume the conversation we were having when last we met, as if we’d never been apart. Which is, in a way, true. So many of us converse on the IRC channel every day that we are not so much friends as family.
As an aside, it is a sobering thought. Entirely because of Mr Pratchett’s books several of my friends have met. Heck, the IRC channel was started so that an Antipodean resident could keep in touch with a UKian one. They met, married and became Discworld Convention Committee. There are, to the best of my knowledge, an even dozen children who have happened because of friends of mine being drawn together through a shared love of the books of the Man in the Hat. I wonder what he would think if he knew that?
Coffee was located. Various events were signed up to. I was hugely disappointed to find that Diane and Peter were not to be here. I owe them a huge thanks for being responsible for me getting my first book published, and almost getting my second one out as well. Their Writers Workshops were so very helpful. And I’m sure it wasn’t their fault that my second publisher went bust a week before my book was due to escape…
I *Watch*ed the Opening Ceremony, and was hugely heartened by Terry’s fortitude, optimism and ability to sweep the stage. I cheered at the announcement that he was able to write. I boo’d the fact that he found typing difficult. I laughed at his anecdotes. I cheered the ConCom. I grinned at the idea that 50% of the people present would not know why the first step was *A bit of ane bastard*. And felt a bit old. And I left the ceremony, as always, feeling slightly humbled and hugely privileged to be part of a huge group of like-minded people, brought together by some bloke in a hat with a penchant for carnivorous plants.
The Hunter
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