Conflux 2

First things first. Due to a discussion with a bunch of Terribly Important Bloggers (some of whom were Terribly Tall Bloggers, one of whom fed us Portugese tarts) in the Dealer's Room at Conflux, Robert Hood has been appointed to judge all the blogs about Conflux and to decide which is the silliest. I suspect the prize might be a sad loss of reputation, but five bloggers have offered to join the fray. This was subversion.

It was not as subversive as things certain people did at the mass autograph session. Someone brought a tube of long-life bubbles, which floated *everywhere*. If I were from the US I would be able to plead the Fifth Amendment. The result was bubbles stuck to Storm Trooper doormen, being attacked with light sabres, landing on the nose of TJ Arryn's model dragon, giving horror writers halos, disconcerting Jim Frenkel (who was even more perturbed when he found I had run out of chocolate) and otherwise behaving vagrantly. I ought to be sorry, but everyone was treating me like a reagular civilised person and the iron control couldn't last. I blame Angela Challis and Shane Jiraiya Cummings and Lee Battersby and Lyn Battersby and Andrew Kiernan, because of bad jokes made over dinner. Besides, I had out of chocolate.

The chief threat to my dignity tomorrow is daleks. I traded in some bubble-blowing for a turn with a dalek. A group of evil-wishers have engaged to come and watch me try to squeeze into the dalek.

All this says something about this convention.

Conflux 3

The reason there are lots of smaller updates is because I am supremely kind and generous and don't want to inflict a 2000 word entry on anyone. I am supremely kind and generous by dint of an amazing social life. Maybe I will send out a search party for hermit Gillian soon. Maybe I will sneak in one more dinner first.

This blog entry is my little collection of oneliners. Not so many this time because I haven't got to many panels. I adore panels, but I adore running into friends and sitting down and chatting more. And meeting new friends.

I was less than articulate most of the day and my brain only came alive about an hour ago, to the amusement of Margi Curtis and Leigh Blackmore. They were visiting for coffee and chat, and my brain flipped its switch and they got treated to a dissertation on why Medieval pilgrimage theory might underlie more modern notions of magical paths. It made sense at the time.

Russell Kirkpatrick on a panel told us (the audience) that we were are all very interesting save for one or two exceptions. "I can name you," he threatened.

Steve Jackson - investigating Australian gaming during his talk - asked the audience to "Tell me about your games publishers."
"He's over there."

A stormtrooper passed a panel Russell Farr was on, prompting Russell to say "We are not the publishers you are looking for." The storm trooper moved on.

The interview with Arthur C Clarke had many notable moments. Sean Williams managed to elicit some interesting answers from Clarke, but I am in the mood to give quotes. Here are some Arthur C Clarke one-liners:
"I would love a pet giant squid."
About President Bush and the sciences "What is his attitude towards science? He doesn't know what it is."
On being asked if he would live forever, given the opportunity "Ask me after a thousand years."
Clarke often brought his memory into the conversation, mostly genuinely, but sometimes to derail answers. I was not sure how to interpret it when he summed up Kubrick's films as (due to his age) "Just a few memories of Peter Sellars."
His best one liner and a good note to finish on. "I don't get many new ideas nowadays but when I do I just lie down until they go away."

Conflux

Last post before sleep. More tomorrow.

Sentences. Had them. Somewhere. Found them.

I suspect the Medieval fast menu was rather a success. Just suspect. Lots of people said lovely things last night and I promised I would blog recipes. If anyone has favourite recipes let me know and I will blog them first, because I took a look at the menu and it is *long*. I suspect I will run out of steam before the end. So tell me your favourite dises so you don't miss out. Donna has already requested the one for hypocras!

Today reaffirmed that Feast-thing. All day people kept coming up to me - people I know well, people I half-know, people I have never met before in my life - and told me how wonderful the food was. That the feast was an unmissable experience was largely thanks to Kaaron Warren and Karen Herkes and the Lenehans and Tansy Rayner Roberts and the chef at Rydges. It was *such* a group endeavour. But the menu itself was mine own and fifty people telling me that they loved it makes me very happy. Trevor Stafford (Conflux Chair) said that everyone has been coming up to him, too. And Cary Lenehan now has fans. People wanted him to sign games at the mass autograph session. Lots of happiness all round.

One thing that made the feast special was the way one thing led to another. The SCA and re-enactors and a research historian and SF writers all joined together. So did the High Table (our nobles for the evening). I explained High Table behaviour to them and they responded delightfully.

The SCA people have a lovely way with entertainemnt. They remind me a bit of my folk communities. They see a microphone and think "Let's have fun." And so we did. Stories and rhymes and someone singing a folksong and sing-along and a travelling harp and a knighting. We had planned a story and a couple of rhymes and the subtlety. The rest was spontaneous. Most people asked "Do you mind if..." and of course we didn't mind. Why *would* we mind? The story behind the harp was my favourite. "It was in my luggage," the harpist told me, "And I asked if I could play."