UK Trip Post-Mortem, Part 2

[khaosworks]

I wake up the next morning and pop down to the WH Smith's that was the center of most of my regular book-buying existence in the Wood Green area. Walking there, I see that a new book chain, Ottakars, has moved in a few doors down - kind of like a cross between Waterstone's dark wood shelf decor and Border's, with a cafe inside. Anyway, I grab breakfast at a Burger King and read the Times on the current Bush situation - it's 7 February, and I snort my tea through my nose at the discovery that MI6's vaunted intelligence linking Iraq to Al-Qaeda was cut-and-pasted, grammatical error included, from a academic article several years ago.

One thing about the British newspapers - you get a larger sense of the general hostility and opposition against the American cowboy attitude that's going on. I am filled with an incredible sense of pride and gratificiation at the way Blair seems to be floundering when it comes to the entire war issue. Yet, for all the ranting and raving, it seems that Powell's little display at the United Nations - while not on par with Adlai Stevenson's in 1962 - did manage to sway a few heads. Mostly, it's not about the rational need to depose Saddam - everyone knows and agrees he's a bad, bad man - the question is why now, why him... is it morally justified? Europe seems just as divided, but the British people, the vocal minority that gives voice to the silent majority, seem to be saying the opposite of what the Americans said about the English in the opening salvoes of World War II, that the Americans now seem willing to fight to the last Englishman. But if I feel good now, wait till 15 February... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Grabbing a Star Trek ("In The Name of Honor" by Dayton Ward - it's a good read if you like Klingons) book and a copy of the latest Doctor Who Magazine to read on the train up, I return to Courcy Lane, pack enough clothes for the weekend, grab Lilith and head down to Liverpool Street station. The closing of the Central Line doesn't really affect me that much - it's just a slightly longer walk between platforms at King's Cross, and I get there fine. There's a slight bit of confusion about which train to take up that leaves me sitting in an empty train like a moron for a while, I hop onto the 14.15 to Ipswich and make it to Ipswich Station around 15.30.

From there, it's a 5 quid taxi ride to the Holiday Inn where Quinze is starting. A sea of unfamiliar faces - Simon Fairbourne greets me warmly and it takes me a couple of hours to realize that it's Chiefy! The only persons I seem to recognize straight of the bat is Rafe Culpin and Hilary Croughton, whom I only know it's here because I know she's the concom chair and she looks the most harassed. Of course, being the only frickin' Chinese guy wandering around with a guitar, it's pretty obvious who I am, so please forgive me if you had come up to me and introduced yourself in those first shell-shocked hours and I didn't seem to react properly. Registration isn't open, and my roomie Dave Weingart (filkerdave) seems nowhere in attendance, so I shlep my luggage up to my room and head back down to see if anybody registers anything in that old memory of mine.

There's Ju! Hug. Hey, Alan Theissen! Didn't know you were coming! Kathy Mar's coming too? Incredible! There's the Whittakers! Glad I could make it too! My mind is a whirl trying to reconcile the warmth with the fact that I've never met most of these people face to face before. Shaya (delennara)! And... wait a second, is that wee Talis? Which means Persis and Spencer can't be far behind. The mix of US and British fandom is a dizzying concept. Then the Suttons and Rob and Larissa arrive. I help lug their luggage up to their room and instantly snap my watch band doing so, leaving me watchless and reliant on my cel phone for the time for the rest of my stay. Finally, Katy (katyhh) arrives, with Dave in tow. I love Katy - she's always so giggly, and she has a very soft body which I could just keep on holding for hours. Really, I'd like a Katy plush toy, please.

I also meet the disturbingly pretty Jessica Prett (plaid_dragon) which makes me regret so many things on so many levels, like not being charming enough, or tall enough, or geographically near enough, or having enough nerve, or even being in any kind of window of opportunity to ask invite her for dinner and a movie - for starters.

Quinze kind of blurs into one event after another after that - I discover a few things. That the pub food in the Holiday Inn at Ipswich is actually quite good (if you ever make it there I recommend the duck salad). That I prefer smaller circles in the bar to large massive ones in function rooms. That I'm hideously untalented when it comes to the guitar compared to other people. That I stop breathing in my sleep and I really should see a doctor about that. That when I'm back in the UK I instantly revert to my painfully shy undergrad days around new people. That I'd forgotten how great the air can be outside cities when it doesn't smell. That I have three chins and need to lose weight.

Highlights have got to be: Simon Fairbourne, whenever he appeared. The man's got a massive, amazing voice. He tells me at one point that he used to do Gilbert and Sullivan, and I say, dude, you really should consider going back to that because you're just great for it. I'm already trying to figure out how to steal his Brit boy-band parody "A Meaningful Look To The Camera" and adapt it for American use.

Phoenix's set is incredible, but like a wimp, I sit it out in the "quiet room" instead of going into what passed for a mosh pit in front of the stage. Seeing Kathy Mar again and catching up - I haven't seen her since OVFF 2001 when she bought my basement tape CD for an ungodly sum of money. Just sitting in a bar and chilling with Seanan (cadhla) and the Raffertys - forgive me, girls, but I still can't tell Emily and Anna apart. And speaking of children - the younger ones are in full force and incredibly cute. My biological clock just goes completely twitterpated whenever I see the kids. Some of them are just too cute to be still within the bounds of the law.

I debut "Columbia Won't Be Coming Home Today" being incredibly nervous as usual in front of a crowd. The reason I prefer sitting down while performing is that my knees shake and tremble and threaten to give way. I usually can cover this by pretending I'm bouncing to the rhythm, but sitting down is best. But even that can't save me during the last dead dog circle in the bar when I've got my lead sheets in front of me - with the wrong friggin' chords. Eventually I give up embarassing myself after a few songs fall flat and I just sing acapella.

The most oft-asked question of me during the con was "Are you coming next year?" or "Are you showing up at [insert con name]?" That, sadly, is still a simple question with a complicated answer. It all depends on UGA, really.

If there is one thing about Quinze that is common to all cons is that it is over way too soon. I'm saying my tearful goodbyes - in the case of people like Ju and Katy, I really don't know when I'll be seeing them again, and I'm hoping that the rest of the week is going to be alleviated slightly by me going around London and dragging folks like Rob, Larissa and Seanan along. I wind up riding with Lissa (oreouk), Phil (demoneyes), their son Alex and Seanan down to Gravesend, where I'm hoping we'll progress out to London the next morning (and I can get a chance to hook myself up to the Internet... aaaahhhhhh... yes... the Internet...).

That evening, 10 February, Rika (bardling)and David (djbp) bring Dave (Weingart), Rob and Larissa over to the Allcocks' and we have Chinese for dinner and manage to hook up Cassandra to Phil's wide screen TV so we can show the pictures Rob and I have taken over the weekend and all have a good laugh. That being done, we make plans for me to shuffle down to London tomorrow to dump my stuff at Courcy Lane and then check to see if we can meet in Central London. Seanan doesn't sound too good, though, so that may be a sign of problems with that...

Next: London, post-con, and making history.

Comments

[kitanzi.livejournal.com]

*sigh* I'm still upset that we never did manage to get that London Tour from you - other than the con and staying at Rika and David's, it was the one thing we'd planned on before ever leaving home. However, I'm STILL dragging around with this damned cold, so maybe it's just as well. Can we have a raincheck for next time?

[khaosworks.livejournal.com]

I know you are, hon, and believe me, I don't blame any of you - a cold's a cold, and so it goes. I'm not trying to dwell on a disappointment, but just chronicling things as they were happening (or supposed to) - it'll become clearer in the next installment.

Re:

[kitanzi.livejournal.com]

Fair enough, but I'm still hoping for that raincheck! :)

Nitpicks...

[filkerdave.livejournal.com]

That I stop breathing in my sleep and I really should see a doctor about that.

Yes, you should. Today would NOT be too soon.

I wind up riding with Lissa (demoneyes)

Lissa is oreouk, Phil is demoneyes.

Rika (bardling)and David (djbp) bring Rob and Larissa over to the Allcocks'

Hmph. And what am I, chopped liver?

Re: Nitpicks...

[katyhh.livejournal.com]

*rofl* riiight :) *YOU* go and pout ;-)
And what shall *I* say? The thought of a Katy plush toy is slightly ... err ... disturbing :)
*still laughing* *hugs KhaOS*
Oh, and I have a double h by the way ...

Re: Nitpicks...

[khaosworks.livejournal.com]

In my defense, LJ ate my earlier entry and I had to reconstruct it with the help of Colin Tuckley... the Lissa mistake was the result of a dropped ">" in the code and your omission was because of a bad, bad memory while cutting and pasting.

Re: Nitpicks...

[the-magician.livejournal.com]

Finally, Katy (katyhh) arrives, with Dave in tow.

Thankfully I'm obviously too small to be noticed, or is it that chaffeurs have no honour in the kingdom of the filker? <grin>

Re: Nitpicks...

[filkerdave.livejournal.com]

Remember that you didn't actually come to the hotel at the same time as katyhh and myself, though. I believe it was that the car didn't fit through the doors into the lobby.