--by Brian Skelton
Last Thursday I was a Discworld Convention virgin.
Today I am a happier person.
I’m a shy person, well on the introspective side of the old introvert-extrovert scale. As a toddler, I would hide under the table, whenever my parents had visitors. When I started school, I refused to talk to anyone, teachers or kids, for the first fortnight.
I’m also a tiny bit geeky. I was watched Star Trek whenever it came on the TV. I was taken all the way to Manchester, queuing for hours, to see Star Wars when it first came out (and, yes, Hans did shoot first). I cried when the Blake’s crew were gunned down by the Federation and lusted after Sapphire.
By the age of thirteen, I’d exhausted the local library’s stock of SF and fantasy and was haunting the Bookmen, a second hand book stall in Rochdale’s indoor market. They priced their stock at half the cover price, so my paper-round money bought a lot of old seventies paperbacks. In 1985, when my mate Gerrold Singleton told me about this great new author he’d found and his book, ‘The Colour of Magic’, I’d read enough Leiber, Asprin and McCaffery to understand exactly what it was poking fun at.
So, conventions, are a problem, but also strangely attractive.
I went to my first, a role playing one, when I was sixteen – about the time I started reading Discworld. I was poor back then and could only scrape together enough money for the convention fees and transport. Staying in a hotel room was beyond imagination and I only had a fiver to pay for food throughout the weekend. I think I managed one meal over the three days and what sleep I snatched happened in the gaming hall, in the small hours of the morning. I hadn’t talked to many people outside of the games, but I’d had a weekend of D&D, Car Wars and En Garde, surrounded by fellow enthusiasts. I was exhausted and hungry, but definitely happier for having been there.
A few years later I was doing a post graduate year at Leicester University. I was in a strange town, I had nowhere to live and my girlfriend was a hundred miles away. All the defence mechanisms that shy people build up had been abandoned. I was quite prepared to sit in my room and attend classes and nothing else; I was only there for a year after all, not nearly enough time to make friends.
I managed to overrule my fears, and found myself in a lecture room one evening, waiting for a guy from the ‘Labry’ branch of ‘Fools and Heroes’ live role-playing group to turn up. I don’t know how I managed to trick my brain into allowing me to do this. I attended several committee meetings during the time I was in Leicester, and didn’t say more than ten words in all of them. In costume though, out in the woods, with my character firmly in mind, I could be outgoing and entertaining. I had fun and think I helped others enjoy themselves.
We had conventions too, called Gatherings. Groups from around the country would come together for a weekend of in character fun, feasting, quaffing and adventure. I still didn’t have much money so I went as a cast member, trading a reduced fee for the privilege of helping everyone else have a good time. I didn’t have a tent or sleeping bag, so I was still snatching sleep where I could, wrapped in my cloak by the campfire. The weekends would end with me tired, dirty, wet (I once set fire to my boots whilst trying to dry them), though not hungry, as food was part of the entertainment.
Despite the aches and pains I was a happy person; having spent the weekend surrounded by my people, people with the imagination and passion to make this fantasy become real for a short while.
That was twenty years ago. I’ve got better since then. I usually hide in the kitchen when we have guests now and, if forced to spend time with strangers, will usually find something to say after only an hour or two… I’ve also learned to hide, to an extent, the nerdiness. I don’t automatically tell everyone who my favourite Enterprise captain is (Picard, of course) or brag about the number of times I’ve read Lord of the Rings. I can pass, almost, for a normal person.
Twenty years of work and unemployment, family, children, houses, cooking and all the rest. They were good years, filled with happiness and love, but some of the stuff that made me who I am fell by the wayside. I still read the books and watch the shows, but the role playing and get togethers didn’t happen any more. I have friends, but they’re normal people. They’re into music, cooking, travel, reality TV, Barbie dolls and train spotting. All good things (well, mostly) but relatively normal. I had lost something.
It’s just after New Year and my daughter is chatting on the PC. Someone had mentioned the Discworld convention and she wanted to go. The fear, and attraction, returned and we said we’d think about it. We hesitated almost too long, our badge numbers were in the eight nineties, but we went.
We were unprepared; my daughter left half her costume behind and we forgot to scour the shelves for our Discworld books. A rain drenched bike ride home fixed this and there we were, on Friday morning, heading to Lancre Forge for to pick up our goodie bags. I could feel myself starting to enjoy myself…
We all had a wonderful time. Here we are at the Rat Race (My wife Octarine, Wincerind my son, Cocoa my daughter and me). This is a rare thing, a picture of me smiling and relaxed, in a public place.
It’s over now. I had plenty to eat and place to sleep, but I’m still exhausted, this time from trying to do everything and be everywhere. Once again though, I’m a happier person knowing I’m not alone in my strange and wonderful interests.
For the people who helped me regain this feeling, some thanks:
To all of you fellow attendees, for being the people you are. The kind of people I can enjoy spending four whole days with. I wish I’d spoken with more of you, gone to the parties and joined in more – but you can only push your psyche so much before it breaks. Next time, if I can fool my brain into thinking that you’re all old friends, will be better.
The committee and crew are next. The sheer complexity of keeping nine hundred people entertained for four days staggers me. Many, many, thanks to them all.
The wonderful guilds for getting us all involved. Special thanks to Lady Sta for her constant mantra of ‘Be Lovely’. It got me on stage, as one of Sir Joshua’s groupies, to the great surprise of me and my family.
The mysterious Dark Clerks in general, and Lady Twatterby in particular, for welcoming my daughter into their strange and sinister ranks.
The guests, and others, who entertained and delighted us all
Terry, for writing the brilliant stories and being the person who can inspire his fans to get together and make something as wonderful as this convention.
Octarine and Wincerind for throwing themselves into this so full heartedly. They are lovely, lovely people.
Finally, my daughter, Cocoa, for persuading me to do this, and reminding me where the best people can be found. I won’t forget again.
I’ll see you all next time.
