Well, not being one to shrink in the face of a challenge, I joined the general hubbub of Discworld regulars and novices alike, as a sing-along began. The best (and of course the worst) of British folk, British and American pop and rock classics, Disney originals, blues, jazz and songs from the musicals, were aired and destroyed, until in the wee small hours of what was no longer Saturday night but had become Sunday morning we even resorted to opera.
Everyone joined in: young and old, the tuneful and the not so; vampires, seamstresses, witches; writer and readers alike. Then as each musician abandoned us to their dreams, the music or instruments changed until there was no instrument at all, the didgeridoo was removed by security, and there were only a small selection of musical books for inspiration.
But by then we had already sung all we could reasonably recall, and had sung or drunk away most of the tunefulness of our voices, so the evening turned to bad jokes badly told. And as the
jokes became steadily worse the sun came up and the tradition was fulfilled.
I can happily report that there were definitely people still awake from the night before when the morning after breakfast goers were arriving downstairs. In the spirit of accurate reporting, I was there to make sure of it. I was of course absent from much of the next day's scheduled events as a result but the convention is not all about the events - as wonderful as they are. We have to remember, as well, that we are part of an important community, and that this convention is an opportunity to meet not only the writer we all know and love, but also his other disciples from places far and wide, from all walks of life, and to experience the new friendship opportunities all around us.
Here's to the Discworld convention, and all who sail in her.
Sarah Ganderton
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