The Con Report - Monday

Monday

After breakfast, I went to Ian Stewart’s lecture on mathemagical curiosities, and it didn’t disappoint. I’ve always enjoyed things that are both clever and funny, and this talk ticked both boxes in spectacular fashion. And of course the addition of some marvellously awful puns didn’t hurt at all. This item, more than any of the others (that I attended, at least), convinced me that next time we should make sure every major programme item is videoed for posterity.

Then came the concisely-named So You Think You Can Do Better. Tradition demands a grumble session, with bitter whining about anything and everything – but the bile I[1] expected failed to materialise. There were a few major complaints, but most were light-hearted criticisms of minor things along the lines of “it would be nice if...” Sure, my complaint about the really awful coffee might seem a silly thing to complain about, but as I said – if all the big things went right, why not try to fix the small things?

I did get the impression, though, that some of the committee members – and the Hilton lady in particular – got too defensive, responding to criticisms as if they were complaints and, it seemed, getting rather flustered in places. That’s not the way to take criticism; the feeling I got from almost all the comments was “I’ve had a great weekend, here are some easy fixes to make the next one even better.” Don’t get defensive, don’t get snippy – just realise that there will always be things that go wrong, that can be improved, and that the only way to find out about them is to hear about them from people who want to help things become even better in the future.

That said, the audience/commentators could have thought things through a bit better too, particularly one gent whose approach seemed to be “Yes, I know that’s what people expect, but I didn’t like it, so let’s change it.” Just a thought – you’re perfectly entitled to your opinion, but once you’ve expressed it and it’s been hashed out, let it go. They’ve heard your thoughts, you don’t need to keep driving at them.

Anyway, the point is that the ConCom did a phenomenal job, the hotel staff were great – but there were things that could have been better, and wasn’t that the whole point of the feedback session?

With the feedback session finished, off I trotted to Lionel Fanthorpe’s “Mysteries and Secrets of Time”. As expected it was a fascinating talk, even if the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me. I blame it on the time slips. But I managed to stay awake, which was good – sceptical though I am of many of the things he covered, it was a fascinating lecture which I thoroughly enjoyed.

After the lecture I had a brief chat with Lionel about Cairn Holy[2] and writing in general, and he described one of my short stories as “remarkable”, which obviously left me well chuffed. I tend to be sceptical of overly lavish praise, but the writers at DWCon tend, in my experience, to be brutally honest about writing. So I’m still sceptical – I’m not convinced the story’s that good – but nevertheless well pleased with the egoboost. ;-)

Let me see, then what... Oh yes, I went into Sator Square, watched Essy get a portrait drawn (complete with stitches), bought a few t-shirts (including the 2006 shirt, which I’d forgotten to get at the time), and pre-ordered the DVD. A quick trip up to my room to dump my excess luggage, and I was off for the closing ceremony.

It wasn’t as lavish as the opening ceremony, but very funny – largely thanks to the comedy duo of Terry and Bruce. Guys, if you decide to take your show on the road, you’d make a mint. The Shend mugging it up as the straight troll in the background... Sheer genius. And oh god, a Con Boss in a utilikilt... maybe I’m mad, but I’m guessing DWCon 2010 will be really something.

So that was it. The Con’s over. Everyone bugger off home for another two years of grey drudgery...

Except for that traditional final fling of insanity, one of the perpetual Con highlights, the Dead Monkey Party.

I love the DMP.

At the Hinckley, it meant building towers of whatever happened to be lying around, eating KitKats and lying on sofas in the Hub, staring up at the ceiling and chatting aimlessly. At the Metropole, it meant going absolutely nuts. Thank heaven I don’t drink – knowing what I did to the previously so calm and civilised game of Walk The Walk, I’d rather not imagine what would happen if I’d been drunk. I’m not convinced the hotel would have remained standing.[3]

Where was I?

Oh yes. The DMP.

Walk The Walk, Sadists’ Edition. Moving obstacles, living obstacles, absent obstacles... we had great fun. Then Twister, volleyballoon, hangman, random chattering...

There are many things I love about the DMP. The insanity, the completely bonkeroonie sheer funness of it, the knowledge that I’m around people who can have that amount of fun even when (mostly) sober...

And of course the great sensation that it’s sticking two fingers up at the passage of time, and saying “Con’s over, eh? We’ll be the judge of that.”

In fact, I’m sorely tempted to organise a sort of mini-con consisting purely of sitting in the bar and Dead Monkey Parties. But I suspect I’d be the only one there.

Anyway, when we ran out of steam (or more accurately, when we started getting too worried about the chandelier doing a Phantom) I and a few others repaired to the bar. There we remained until about threeish, chatting about all sorts of things, playing Mornington Crescent, and contemplating the fascinating theoretical universe of Crash Space. And much fun was had by all (and quite a lot of chips).

[1] And, as I understand it, several others

[2] A set of two chambered cairns up here in Scotland, plus one that doesn’t exist but I saw very clearly. Yeah, that sort of cairns.

[3] I just had an idea. Why limit WtW to a 20-metre course in one room? Why not have the starting point in Lancre Forge, with post boxes in Harga’s, Sator Square, the Dysk and Morpork? And spikes! Lots of spikes! And, and, and bear traps, and darts coming out of the walls, and hounds, and pits, and mine carts, and... and... no, I don’t want to wear the huggy jumper! Where are you taking me? Hee hee, ha ha, to the funny farm, where life is beautiful all the time! BWAHAHAHAHAAAA!