ianmcdonald (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ianmcdonald) wrote,@ 2008-03-28 17:06:00 |
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In which I am Officially Aged.
Well, well back from our flying visit to Orbital, and the strange delights of the Radisson Edwardian ( I once had to negotiate it as civilian whenslimmeroftheyea and I were going to India, so we were used to its quirky geometry). Not so much non-Euclidian as seemingly designed by an origami-obsessed architect. The saddles, alas, are gone from the Obscenely Expensive Bar (watch me go through one hundred quid in a single liquid afternoon) but the seats were low enough to be in a Turkish cayhane.
Still overjoyed with the BSFA, thank y'all --this one had no watchparts and thus did not Cause A Ruckus at handbaggage X-Ray. Thank you all.
Met some but nowhere near enough people --golly, there were a lot of conventioneers, weren't there? Good to see a few Mecon faces, though. You know who you are. Dinner with Team Gollancz was an exercise in planteration --in that there was more fabby food than even tables of writers and editors could reasonably consume. All under the aural assault of Four Screens of Kylie. (why? You're there to eat and talk, not watch feckin' Kylie). Good to meet Joe Abercrombie --good luck with the John W Campbell, man.
And now, thanks to Robert Sawyer, I learn the dismal truth that I am the oldest of the Hugo novel nominees. Can I begin to explain how dispiriting this is? You kind of like to imagine you've got the funk, can still manage it a bit... when did middle-agedness creep up on me? Where did twenty years go?
Then again, the early broad beans are big and bursting out at McDonald Acres, and the first spinach is peeking green and fresh from the soil.
Well, well back from our flying visit to Orbital, and the strange delights of the Radisson Edwardian ( I once had to negotiate it as civilian when
slimmeroftheyea and I were going to India, so we were used to its quirky geometry). Not so much non-Euclidian as seemingly designed by an origami-obsessed architect. The saddles, alas, are gone from the Obscenely Expensive Bar (watch me go through one hundred quid in a single liquid afternoon) but the seats were low enough to be in a Turkish cayhane.Still overjoyed with the BSFA, thank y'all --this one had no watchparts and thus did not Cause A Ruckus at handbaggage X-Ray. Thank you all.
Met some but nowhere near enough people --golly, there were a lot of conventioneers, weren't there? Good to see a few Mecon faces, though. You know who you are. Dinner with Team Gollancz was an exercise in planteration --in that there was more fabby food than even tables of writers and editors could reasonably consume. All under the aural assault of Four Screens of Kylie. (why? You're there to eat and talk, not watch feckin' Kylie). Good to meet Joe Abercrombie --good luck with the John W Campbell, man.
And now, thanks to Robert Sawyer, I learn the dismal truth that I am the oldest of the Hugo novel nominees. Can I begin to explain how dispiriting this is? You kind of like to imagine you've got the funk, can still manage it a bit... when did middle-agedness creep up on me? Where did twenty years go?
Then again, the early broad beans are big and bursting out at McDonald Acres, and the first spinach is peeking green and fresh from the soil.
