jinty (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jinty) wrote,@ 2003-08-04 17:43:00 |
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CAPTION2003 (1): Friday
Stormin'.
The convention started for me on the Friday, with the departure for London and the retrieval of main guest Carla Speed McNeil and husband Michael from the entrails of Heathrow (with a diversion through to Brentford to pick upmzdt on the way). Much coffee and fidgetting later, the CSM staggered out of the double doors looking panda-like from lack of sleep (no, hang on, she looks like that anyway, only this was more so).
On the road back to Oxford much fun chat was had; Michael, in the front with me, was quieter than the ever-garrulous Carla (a great trait to have in a special guest, of course) but we talked about cabbages and kings through the journey, finally getting back to Oxford to have showers (had to show the workings of my strange limey shower and toilet), a wander out into Cowley Road, and the possibility of grabbing a spot of food and checking out the exotic UK supermarket Tesco. (The local Lebanese provided our tasty tea, as it was by then.) Also bumped intooxfordslacker on our stroll, and he was able to show us the just-collected CAPTION t-shirts in all their splendour:
After that, it was over to the comic shop and next-door charity shop (still got truckloads of dodgy Kens and Barbies in the window). CSM, in professional mode, shook Dave's hand and may even have valled him Sir.
On our return, C & M sacked out and Simon started in on the webcomics HTML, a task I, er, hadn't quite finished in time for CAPTION (he tsk-ed and said ah, well, I'll do it in half an hour -- and then ran headlong into the annoyances of Dreamweaver and cursed it up hill and down dale for the next couple of hours). I got on with my self-imposed task of scanning pages of Jinty artwork (my chosen story was 'The Robot Who Cried', but unfortunately this also took too long to do and was not finished in time for CAPTION -- I could tell pretty much immediately that it was a lost cause, so carried on scanning in that vein rather than in the increasingly desperate and annoyed vein that seemed to be S's lot -- soz).
Eventually the computer jobs were set down to be picked up at a future time, and the household gathered to pop to the pub and thence possibly onward for the meal with Bryan Talbot (being met at the train station at about half past nine; late for a meal, but suiting us given our very late lunch).cloudhigh was there and being more risqué than a very dodgy thing; which was fun; and overall there were some 12 of us crammed into the nearest Indian restaurant to the train station. (The pub had been so crowded and noisy as to not be worth even trying to sit down with a drink; we clashed with a real ale festival, I seem to recall.) And thence to stagger to a taxi and to bed, with CS and M trying manfully to overcome jetlag with the most immediate effect possible (not very successfully unfortunately).
Stormin'.
The convention started for me on the Friday, with the departure for London and the retrieval of main guest Carla Speed McNeil and husband Michael from the entrails of Heathrow (with a diversion through to Brentford to pick up
mzdt on the way). Much coffee and fidgetting later, the CSM staggered out of the double doors looking panda-like from lack of sleep (no, hang on, she looks like that anyway, only this was more so).On the road back to Oxford much fun chat was had; Michael, in the front with me, was quieter than the ever-garrulous Carla (a great trait to have in a special guest, of course) but we talked about cabbages and kings through the journey, finally getting back to Oxford to have showers (had to show the workings of my strange limey shower and toilet), a wander out into Cowley Road, and the possibility of grabbing a spot of food and checking out the exotic UK supermarket Tesco. (The local Lebanese provided our tasty tea, as it was by then.) Also bumped into
oxfordslacker on our stroll, and he was able to show us the just-collected CAPTION t-shirts in all their splendour:After that, it was over to the comic shop and next-door charity shop (still got truckloads of dodgy Kens and Barbies in the window). CSM, in professional mode, shook Dave's hand and may even have valled him Sir.
On our return, C & M sacked out and Simon started in on the webcomics HTML, a task I, er, hadn't quite finished in time for CAPTION (he tsk-ed and said ah, well, I'll do it in half an hour -- and then ran headlong into the annoyances of Dreamweaver and cursed it up hill and down dale for the next couple of hours). I got on with my self-imposed task of scanning pages of Jinty artwork (my chosen story was 'The Robot Who Cried', but unfortunately this also took too long to do and was not finished in time for CAPTION -- I could tell pretty much immediately that it was a lost cause, so carried on scanning in that vein rather than in the increasingly desperate and annoyed vein that seemed to be S's lot -- soz).
Eventually the computer jobs were set down to be picked up at a future time, and the household gathered to pop to the pub and thence possibly onward for the meal with Bryan Talbot (being met at the train station at about half past nine; late for a meal, but suiting us given our very late lunch).
cloudhigh was there and being more risqué than a very dodgy thing; which was fun; and overall there were some 12 of us crammed into the nearest Indian restaurant to the train station. (The pub had been so crowded and noisy as to not be worth even trying to sit down with a drink; we clashed with a real ale festival, I seem to recall.) And thence to stagger to a taxi and to bed, with CS and M trying manfully to overcome jetlag with the most immediate effect possible (not very successfully unfortunately).
