(no subject)

My weekend is pootering along to a little bit of a downbeat finish. That is entirely due to the inability of the Wolves to beat the Blues, but put in enough of a performance to hold off mathematical relegation to the Nationwide until next week. As it is, a draw suited neither side, though Birmingham's hopes of a fourth place finish disappeared some weeks back. I'm not sure where they are concerning qualification for the UEFA Cup next season. I, on the other hand, have to wait another seven days or so, hoping against hope that my boys can survive.

It's times like this I wish I didn't like football.

Anyway, Friday night and Saturday were taken up with the more pleasurable pursuit of playing in JamieAmy's La Commedia della Citta where I managed to sort it all out to the Cavallo family's advantage but for being one step behind events at crucial times. I think my watchword for the game must be, "Where the Hell have you been? - If you hadn't gone off half-cocked, I had the answer!" Still, that doesn't detract from the fact it was a splendid event, and with decent accommodation, too. This is extremely important when you are a crotchety middle-aged gamer. Camping is a bloodsport and should be consigned to the same historical bin as bear baiting. Comfy beds, that's the future.

Other people have written up the politics and the pottiest of incidents, but I have to note that there was a certain fun to be had just sitting and being baffled by the odd rituals and tranquilments disported by nyarbaggytep as the savage lady from the New World. Neither mrcook nor I quite new how to react after being asked to hold smoldering twigs for five or so minutes.

One point to note is that if philoko does not like playing smarmy, snakish reptiles of characters, he shouldn't be so good at them.

And I consider it the role-playing triumph of my life to pretend for a day and a half that Maisie was a bloke.

I'd be grateful if those who took photos of the event (especially of yours truly in pre-heat wave frockcoat) would email them or post them up where I can get copies. Grovel, grovel. I of course, took two cameras and then forgot to do anything with them. Such is life, ho-hum.

Ta very glad to agentinfinity and Von Twine for organising it, and wandering around lokking baffled, muttering 'but we wrote a comedy...' and to jimfer for keeping the quails away. Don't ask.

Oh, and one final plea: To the ladies who decided that their costumes fitted better if they took their bras off; Brava! But warn me first, next time. Blood pressure, don'tcha know.

My final observation is simply that in those parts of Essex that lead up to the fens, all the railway stations are miles away from anywhere useful. If anyone has an explanation, I'm all ears.

(no subject)

My weekend is pootering along to a little bit of a downbeat finish. That is entirely due to the inability of the Wolves to beat the Blues, but put in enough of a performance to hold off mathematical relegation to the Nationwide until next week. As it is, a draw suited neither side, though Birmingham's hopes of a fourth place finish disappeared some weeks back. I'm not sure where they are concerning qualification for the UEFA Cup next season. I, on the other hand, have to wait another seven days or so, hoping against hope that my boys can survive.

It's times like this I wish I didn't like football.

Anyway, Friday night and Saturday were taken up with the more pleasurable pursuit of playing in JamieAmy's La Commedia della Citta where I managed to sort it all out to the Cavallo family's advantage but for being one step behind events at crucial times. I think my watchword for the game must be, "Where the Hell have you been? - If you hadn't gone off half-cocked, I had the answer!" Still, that doesn't detract from the fact it was a splendid event, and with decent accommodation, too. This is extremely important when you are a crotchety middle-aged gamer. Camping is a bloodsport and should be consigned to the same historical bin as bear baiting. Comfy beds, that's the future.

Other people have written up the politics and the pottiest of incidents, but I have to note that there was a certain fun to be had just sitting and being baffled by the odd rituals and tranquilments disported by nyarbaggytep as the savage lady from the New World. Neither mrcook nor I quite new how to react after being asked to hold smoldering twigs for five or so minutes.

One point to note is that if philoko does not like playing smarmy, snakish reptiles of characters, he shouldn't be so good at them.

And I consider it the role-playing triumph of my life to pretend for a day and a half that Maisie was a bloke.

I'd be grateful if those who took photos of the event (especially of yours truly in pre-heat wave frockcoat) would email them or post them up where I can get copies. Grovel, grovel. I of course, took two cameras and then forgot to do anything with them. Such is life, ho-hum.

Ta very glad to agentinfinity and Von Twine for organising it, and wandering around lokking baffled, muttering 'but we wrote a comedy...' and to jimfer for keeping the quails away. Don't ask.

Oh, and one final plea: To the ladies who decided that their costumes fitted better if they took their bras off; Brava! But warn me first, next time. Blood pressure, don'tcha know.

My final observation is simply that in those parts of Essex that lead up to the fens, all the railway stations are miles away from anywhere useful. If anyone has an explanation, I'm all ears.

(no subject)

Today has been a largely uneventful affair. I have done my best to avoid the unseasonal heat and worry about the temperatures to come when summer itself arrives.

We are embarking upon sweaty London season, the time of year that all true mammals realise that leaving the oceans was a poor deal since the land is hot, sweaty and involves credit card bills.

The nights are lighter, it is true and this is a good thing. Dawn at 3.15am however is not. Admittedly we are still a few weeks off that, but not many. On the other hand we are only 8 weeks or so away from longest day, and then the nights will start drawing in again. Where is 2004 going...? I'm not used to writing 2004 on my cheques yet and nearly a third of the year's gone already.

Tempus fugit, dear reader. Tempus fugit.

Tomorrow I must shake myself out of post-event torpor and a) do some paid work in the office and b) crack on with NWO character sheets.

That event still feels a long way off, but it isn't, and I don't want to have to spend endless nights in June catching up on writing. I have a feeling that I need to get my stuff out of the way to clear the decks for the inevitable additional stuff that we will have to do as people fall behind their own schedules. It's happened before, I expect it will happen this time, too.

It's times like this I wonder why we do it. Write free forms, that is. They are a pain most of the time, and the events themselves are exhausting to run, though can be fun and rewarding to referee. Having said that, they are at least equally frustrating and annoying to run, too. People who complain should be made to sit down and write one. That'd larn 'em.

But. Come the debrief at the end of the event when the writing/crewing team are all heroes, well...

You have to bottle that to get you through the rest of it.

(no subject)

Today has been a largely uneventful affair. I have done my best to avoid the unseasonal heat and worry about the temperatures to come when summer itself arrives.

We are embarking upon sweaty London season, the time of year that all true mammals realise that leaving the oceans was a poor deal since the land is hot, sweaty and involves credit card bills.

The nights are lighter, it is true and this is a good thing. Dawn at 3.15am however is not. Admittedly we are still a few weeks off that, but not many. On the other hand we are only 8 weeks or so away from longest day, and then the nights will start drawing in again. Where is 2004 going...? I'm not used to writing 2004 on my cheques yet and nearly a third of the year's gone already.

Tempus fugit, dear reader. Tempus fugit.

Tomorrow I must shake myself out of post-event torpor and a) do some paid work in the office and b) crack on with NWO character sheets.

That event still feels a long way off, but it isn't, and I don't want to have to spend endless nights in June catching up on writing. I have a feeling that I need to get my stuff out of the way to clear the decks for the inevitable additional stuff that we will have to do as people fall behind their own schedules. It's happened before, I expect it will happen this time, too.

It's times like this I wonder why we do it. Write free forms, that is. They are a pain most of the time, and the events themselves are exhausting to run, though can be fun and rewarding to referee. Having said that, they are at least equally frustrating and annoying to run, too. People who complain should be made to sit down and write one. That'd larn 'em.

But. Come the debrief at the end of the event when the writing/crewing team are all heroes, well...

You have to bottle that to get you through the rest of it.