My Life as a Boozy Oaf

2 Conversations

Acts Of God

As I have mentioned, ad nauseum, I am running a convention at the end of May. All things seem to be going swimmingly, except one. It is vitally important that the committee has somewhere to store equipment and, in our case, change into various stunning Victorian outfits. For this we had decided to book rooms in the hotel. This would also allow us to sleep on site rather than, in my case, ten taxi minutes away. Not much, but enough when you are carrying a top hat, a cardboard War Machine and someone elses corset. However, forgetting the golden rule of booking early, I haven't tried to get a room until now. And there are none. There are extra conference rooms so I have booked one for all bar the sleeping. And the reason, other than my own ineptitude, for being unable to get a room? The Dalai Lama.

Yes, the Dalai Lama is coming to Glasgow that weekend. Something I have to admit to not expecting. Well you wouldn't, would you? When planning a small convention for some of the sillier types in fandom you don't expect to have to schedule around small eastern mystics. Other conventions yes. Popular holiday times, yes. When in Glasgow, Old Firm derbies, yes. But not Asian pacifists with a line in head shaving. No.

Do you think it is wrong of me to now find myself thinking ill of the Dalai Lama? Will I, in fact, be re-incarnated as a Tory Minister in my next life? Have I, in fact, blown a lifetime of buying people beer in a pub on a minor rant about a man who will never be voted Mr Popular in China? It is something I find myself wondering now in my slightly less stressed moments. Still I think it counts as an act of God and so I can use it to deflect any criticism about me forgetting to book a room. Hopefully I shall remember that as I stand in the centre of Glasgow at two o'clock on a Sunday morning trying to hail a taxi while dressed as Gladstone.

You Know Who

Everyone likes to think that their hobby/obsession is not obscure. That the vast majority of the country is also involved and that they don't think you are a mad fanboy. Now I am a mildly eccentric fanboy but apparently last weekend I was very much in the majority. Indeed it felt like the whole country was eagerly reading about Christopher Eccleston. And the fact that he had agreed to be the next actor to star in Doctor Who. I was amazed at the number of articles about this. The BBC News site ran four and practically every British newspaper had something about it. And even places as far away as Australia heard about it. So, conclusive proof that I am not a sad fan boy, just British. I'm not actually sure which is worse.

Next Time - Munchkin gets just as excited over the naming of the costume designer. Actually, not for a while he don't. As it is but two months until I have to entertain a large group of burly fans at Convivial I am going to take some time off from writing this to concentrate on convention things. I need all my mental capacity to try and get a joke into page three of the con booklet. So, have a good Easter and such and I shall return in the summer, no doubt full of tales of misplaced speakers and irate punters.

My Life as a Boozy Oaf


25.03.04 Front Page

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