(no subject)
Nov. 14th, 2005 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyI have bruises. Two of them. One of them is when I was flailing at the coffee all over my leg - or it might have been when I was pulling on my jacket, either way - and I smacked the back of the chair in starbucks. The other one? No idea. Not a clue. It was probably something to do with vodka.
There was a lot of that.
My big and beardy friend, purely by chance, happened to be catching the same Megabus as me; this meant that there was much running around madly as I simultaneously cooked a stir fry and packed, leaving much of the actual cooking to him but supervising in a loud voice from the other room. We hared off to the Megabus stop, and were told that, once again, it was going to be an hour late. I suspect I would have been less pissed off about this if I'd booked earlier and paid less for my tickets, but what can you do? Spent a cheerful few hours drinking vodka and coke, looking at amazing photos of Japan (which my inner school teacher was horrified he didn't hold by the edges, dammit) and reading Good Omens to him.
Got to Victoria Station and met up with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
malachan (Cyg), innerbrat (Debi) and djcati (Cati); I'd met Cyg and Debi before but it was the first time meeting Cati and, for the record, she's lovely. But frequently horrified by me, I suspect. It's understandable. We made our way back to Cyg's and chatted about all sorts of things... my memory thereof may have been slightly blurred by the vodka, but I was honoured to meet Stampy, Milliways' international jet-setting elephant. Eventually, there was sleep. And then, eventually, there was waking. And it was Saturday. And it was Good.
We ended up getting to Forbidden Planet at about half nine, not too horribly far back in the queue, and stood discussing Aziraphale, Crowley, trunksmut, and how people should really please be putting clothes on before opening the blinds, goddammit.avariel_wings (Kate) joined us at this point, and Debi gained my everlasting love for buying me an enormous meat sandwich despite being a vegetarian. Marvellous, marvellous person that she is. In the queue, as we walked past, I had seen someone that I was pretty sure I recognised, but I am terrified of looking an idiot in these situations so I didn't say hi.
The line moved reasonably quickly, shuffling forward and getting steadily more giddy. I grabbed a fresh copy of Anansi Boys - I already had my Good Omens and The Dream Hunters of Smaller's - and carefully wrote out a post-it because my name may be short but isn't the easiest to spell. The security guard questioned me on it, and yes, it's knee.
Pictures were taken of Neil with Stampy and a can of Ka, by Debi and Cyg respectively, and then it was my turn. He asked how to say my name, and I explained it was short for Bethany - there was then much repeating of my name in a very Monty Python way, while I attempted to remain calm. He signed the first to Sarah, the second to Nny, and then asked if the last book was also for me. Yes, I said, for I only have one friend. That's alright, says he, with a bit of a grin, I only had one pen. Cue me wandering off stage right to wibble and flail at those in whose eyes I don't mind looking a true n00b. XD
(This is turning into a dreadfully long account, I do apologise).
Getting into the queue to pay, and the person I'd recognised was right next to me - cue her turning to me, looking at the 'Nny' post-it on my Good Omens, and saying "you're Villainny, aren't you?" It was indeed![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
irisbleu (Adrienne), as I had suspected, and I'm terribly glad I ran into her. We chatted in the queue and then, discovering she had no plans until much later in the day, dragged her along with us.
First stop at the tea shop, of course, and then wandering down... er... some street I don't know the name of, on which there were many many living statues. We posed for various photos with a crazy warrior guy and a blue Beethoven, stopped off at the apple market to buy soap, and made for St James' Park whereinnerbrat attempted to feed Stampy to a goose. There was a café which had ice cream 'made with real soul', so we took a picture of the sign for Crowley. We rather felt he'd approve. We munched on various things, talked muchly, and then went off to the V&A because Adrienne had a date to meet louiselux who, for the record, is also terribly nice.
Cyg and I went in with Adrienne and Louise and Louise's young man, who was wearing a quite delightful cordouroy suit, and poked around in the V&A. I had a moment of pure geekery when I saw two pairs of children's shoes next to each other, a tiny pair of brogues and a tiny pair of black snakeskin shoes, but for the most part I was composed and highly sensible. Or. Something.
Eventually it was decided that Debi and Cati and Kate would probably be getting terribly cold at this point, so Cyg and I bid our farewells and went back outside, after which we headed home, made dhal, and drank far more vodka than can possibly be healthy. I passed out early, which is probably for the best since I'm entirely lacking in propriety when I'm drunk, but I did manage to see most of PotC first.
And then there was Sunday, and there were hangovers. Cyg, Debi and I were sharing a laptop and a sign-on name in crackchat, which involved much schizophrenic arguing about whether or not trunksmut was a good thing, and precisely whose fault all the vodka actually was (I maintain, not mine. I passed out far too early to be blamed, honest). Then we wandered into town, said goodbye to Debi, went to Starbucks (wherein I bruised my hand), went to pizza hut (wherein I moaned about how my hangover was going to kill me), and then said goodbye to Cati and raced off to the coach station.
And here endeth the lesson.
A long account, sure, which barely touches on half the things that were done and said. But I think I've said enough for you to get the gist. A bloody lovely weekend, with bloody lovely people, and Neil Gaiman. What more does anyone need?
There was a lot of that.
My big and beardy friend, purely by chance, happened to be catching the same Megabus as me; this meant that there was much running around madly as I simultaneously cooked a stir fry and packed, leaving much of the actual cooking to him but supervising in a loud voice from the other room. We hared off to the Megabus stop, and were told that, once again, it was going to be an hour late. I suspect I would have been less pissed off about this if I'd booked earlier and paid less for my tickets, but what can you do? Spent a cheerful few hours drinking vodka and coke, looking at amazing photos of Japan (which my inner school teacher was horrified he didn't hold by the edges, dammit) and reading Good Omens to him.
Got to Victoria Station and met up with
malachan (Cyg), innerbrat (Debi) and djcati (Cati); I'd met Cyg and Debi before but it was the first time meeting Cati and, for the record, she's lovely. But frequently horrified by me, I suspect. It's understandable. We made our way back to Cyg's and chatted about all sorts of things... my memory thereof may have been slightly blurred by the vodka, but I was honoured to meet Stampy, Milliways' international jet-setting elephant. Eventually, there was sleep. And then, eventually, there was waking. And it was Saturday. And it was Good.We ended up getting to Forbidden Planet at about half nine, not too horribly far back in the queue, and stood discussing Aziraphale, Crowley, trunksmut, and how people should really please be putting clothes on before opening the blinds, goddammit.
avariel_wings (Kate) joined us at this point, and Debi gained my everlasting love for buying me an enormous meat sandwich despite being a vegetarian. Marvellous, marvellous person that she is. In the queue, as we walked past, I had seen someone that I was pretty sure I recognised, but I am terrified of looking an idiot in these situations so I didn't say hi. The line moved reasonably quickly, shuffling forward and getting steadily more giddy. I grabbed a fresh copy of Anansi Boys - I already had my Good Omens and The Dream Hunters of Smaller's - and carefully wrote out a post-it because my name may be short but isn't the easiest to spell. The security guard questioned me on it, and yes, it's knee.
Pictures were taken of Neil with Stampy and a can of Ka, by Debi and Cyg respectively, and then it was my turn. He asked how to say my name, and I explained it was short for Bethany - there was then much repeating of my name in a very Monty Python way, while I attempted to remain calm. He signed the first to Sarah, the second to Nny, and then asked if the last book was also for me. Yes, I said, for I only have one friend. That's alright, says he, with a bit of a grin, I only had one pen. Cue me wandering off stage right to wibble and flail at those in whose eyes I don't mind looking a true n00b. XD
(This is turning into a dreadfully long account, I do apologise).
Getting into the queue to pay, and the person I'd recognised was right next to me - cue her turning to me, looking at the 'Nny' post-it on my Good Omens, and saying "you're Villainny, aren't you?" It was indeed
irisbleu (Adrienne), as I had suspected, and I'm terribly glad I ran into her. We chatted in the queue and then, discovering she had no plans until much later in the day, dragged her along with us. First stop at the tea shop, of course, and then wandering down... er... some street I don't know the name of, on which there were many many living statues. We posed for various photos with a crazy warrior guy and a blue Beethoven, stopped off at the apple market to buy soap, and made for St James' Park where
innerbrat attempted to feed Stampy to a goose. There was a café which had ice cream 'made with real soul', so we took a picture of the sign for Crowley. We rather felt he'd approve. We munched on various things, talked muchly, and then went off to the V&A because Adrienne had a date to meet louiselux who, for the record, is also terribly nice. Cyg and I went in with Adrienne and Louise and Louise's young man, who was wearing a quite delightful cordouroy suit, and poked around in the V&A. I had a moment of pure geekery when I saw two pairs of children's shoes next to each other, a tiny pair of brogues and a tiny pair of black snakeskin shoes, but for the most part I was composed and highly sensible. Or. Something.
Eventually it was decided that Debi and Cati and Kate would probably be getting terribly cold at this point, so Cyg and I bid our farewells and went back outside, after which we headed home, made dhal, and drank far more vodka than can possibly be healthy. I passed out early, which is probably for the best since I'm entirely lacking in propriety when I'm drunk, but I did manage to see most of PotC first.
And then there was Sunday, and there were hangovers. Cyg, Debi and I were sharing a laptop and a sign-on name in crackchat, which involved much schizophrenic arguing about whether or not trunksmut was a good thing, and precisely whose fault all the vodka actually was (I maintain, not mine. I passed out far too early to be blamed, honest). Then we wandered into town, said goodbye to Debi, went to Starbucks (wherein I bruised my hand), went to pizza hut (wherein I moaned about how my hangover was going to kill me), and then said goodbye to Cati and raced off to the coach station.
And here endeth the lesson.
A long account, sure, which barely touches on half the things that were done and said. But I think I've said enough for you to get the gist. A bloody lovely weekend, with bloody lovely people, and Neil Gaiman. What more does anyone need?
