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Jul. 14th, 2008 03:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beccaelizabethI'm home :-)
0830 on a monday morning is a sodding ridiculous time to have a fire alarm test.
The hotel was huge, my room was at the opposite end to the events, the lobby with the lifts up to my room was being used for an asian wedding and I'm sure they didn't appreciate the wandering through masses, their music was *loud* (and I don't mind loud music if I can go dance to it, but it isn't much fun if you're not invited), there was no internet connection in the room despite the advertising online, on paper and in the room itself saying there was, even if there had been it would cost £15 a day, and the wireless wasn't working half the times I caved and tried to use it.
I never quite got the hang of the schedule cause four things were happening at once at all times, so I got autographs but not photographs or coffee. I don't much mind this time, and I'm sure someone would have explained if I asked, but I felt all off balance trying to figure it out all day.
There was only two hours dancing.
The cabaret was a bit crap. Kai Owen singing Doo Wah Diddy and that rugby song, starting about a quarter hour late, wasn't a great start; the comedian was okay; Yamit Mamo, er, wasn't. but I hadn't meant to go to it anyway, I just couldn't bloody sleep.
I've had six hours sleep all weekend and not half way enough dancing.
So I'm in a right grumpy mood.
Alexandra Moen was on the website. *checks* still is. But unless I missed a whole guest she was not there.
But the people that were there were interesting, and I got the autographs I wanted, and I talked to a bunch of people. So that was nice.
I spent most of last night increasingly exhausted and in a right misery for no good reason. And I couldn't go on the internet to distract myself because no internet. Blah.
Hotel breakfast was kind of manky and the little shop had run out of lucozade. But I'm now eatin the bread rolls I pocketed (from habit and/or on general principle: £15 for breakfast? I'm taking all the bread I can fit. Which, okay, usually two rolls.)
But.
Today worked. The taxi probably wasn't the one they'd called for me but I don't know how to figure that out. It had a proper taxi sign and was taxi shaped and had a taxi meter and said did you want a taxi. But did not know destination or number or anything. The quote the hotel got was £7 to the rail station, the taxi actually cost £12. Still worth it. The route the computer told me for getting home is a good one. Just as quick to get to that station in the taxi as to the other in the hotel car, with less waiting, only from the other station you have to go in to Birmingham New Street and out again through this other station, so I cut the triangle. The train station computer tries to send you in and out again. Not so good. Anyway, I got to the train place and I though I was half an hour early, only it turned out the train before was late, so I was just on time to catch that one instead. Which had the knock on effect of getting the connection train an hour early, with about two minutes wait after crossing the platform. And then I caught the bus home. With slight detour via the local doctor who selling shop, cause I forgot to pick up more audio adventures at the convention. The shop handed out a thing for the norwich science fiction group which meets alternate wednesdays. This week's topic is Doctor Who.
Think I might go to that.
So today worked pretty well.
Next: sleep. I really, really hope. Sleep is nice. I've heard. I distantly remember.
0830 on a monday morning is a sodding ridiculous time to have a fire alarm test.
The hotel was huge, my room was at the opposite end to the events, the lobby with the lifts up to my room was being used for an asian wedding and I'm sure they didn't appreciate the wandering through masses, their music was *loud* (and I don't mind loud music if I can go dance to it, but it isn't much fun if you're not invited), there was no internet connection in the room despite the advertising online, on paper and in the room itself saying there was, even if there had been it would cost £15 a day, and the wireless wasn't working half the times I caved and tried to use it.
I never quite got the hang of the schedule cause four things were happening at once at all times, so I got autographs but not photographs or coffee. I don't much mind this time, and I'm sure someone would have explained if I asked, but I felt all off balance trying to figure it out all day.
There was only two hours dancing.
The cabaret was a bit crap. Kai Owen singing Doo Wah Diddy and that rugby song, starting about a quarter hour late, wasn't a great start; the comedian was okay; Yamit Mamo, er, wasn't. but I hadn't meant to go to it anyway, I just couldn't bloody sleep.
I've had six hours sleep all weekend and not half way enough dancing.
So I'm in a right grumpy mood.
Alexandra Moen was on the website. *checks* still is. But unless I missed a whole guest she was not there.
But the people that were there were interesting, and I got the autographs I wanted, and I talked to a bunch of people. So that was nice.
I spent most of last night increasingly exhausted and in a right misery for no good reason. And I couldn't go on the internet to distract myself because no internet. Blah.
Hotel breakfast was kind of manky and the little shop had run out of lucozade. But I'm now eatin the bread rolls I pocketed (from habit and/or on general principle: £15 for breakfast? I'm taking all the bread I can fit. Which, okay, usually two rolls.)
But.
Today worked. The taxi probably wasn't the one they'd called for me but I don't know how to figure that out. It had a proper taxi sign and was taxi shaped and had a taxi meter and said did you want a taxi. But did not know destination or number or anything. The quote the hotel got was £7 to the rail station, the taxi actually cost £12. Still worth it. The route the computer told me for getting home is a good one. Just as quick to get to that station in the taxi as to the other in the hotel car, with less waiting, only from the other station you have to go in to Birmingham New Street and out again through this other station, so I cut the triangle. The train station computer tries to send you in and out again. Not so good. Anyway, I got to the train place and I though I was half an hour early, only it turned out the train before was late, so I was just on time to catch that one instead. Which had the knock on effect of getting the connection train an hour early, with about two minutes wait after crossing the platform. And then I caught the bus home. With slight detour via the local doctor who selling shop, cause I forgot to pick up more audio adventures at the convention. The shop handed out a thing for the norwich science fiction group which meets alternate wednesdays. This week's topic is Doctor Who.
Think I might go to that.
So today worked pretty well.
Next: sleep. I really, really hope. Sleep is nice. I've heard. I distantly remember.