Discworld Con
Aug. 25th, 2004 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
burntcopper[..Oh, and the interview seemed to go well, but I'm not much judge at these things]
This con hath opened my eyes, and I've never had so much fun. It started on Friday, approx 3pm, and continued (officially) until 5pm monday. With extra piss-ups after that.
Friday
Got there, with sheep in to-be-made form, hassled![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tirinar for being disorganised and then got yelled at, (I get super-anal about travel arrangement stuff), signed up for the Maskerade, looked at the schedule and wished for three bodies so could do all the stuff I wanted, signed up for Klatches (8-person talks with guests, rather good way to get one-on-one time besides running into them in the bar), got a nice lad called Brian to agree to joining the Feegles, and both me and Tors joined the Seamstresses Guild. (You joined a Guild of your choice, there were meetings during the weekend in which we discussed ways of scoring points and making presence known, heads of the Guild being guests) Started making Flossie, and somehow got roped into helping occasionally with Chaos Costuming (also the Guild heaquarters) as a Thread and Needle Specialist.
Opening Ceremony indeed silly, beginning with video of the committee being led in by pipers and rats with zombified expressions, and Guild heads being declared. Stephen Briggs being rather peeved that he didn't get the Assassins but rather the merchants. Guild meeting, Diane Duane (see 'So you Want to be Wizard' series and many, many Trek books) as head. Diane made the point through giggling lots that it was impossible to say anything in the presence of a seamstress that didn't consist of a double entendre.... It was decided that we'd spread visibility by tying ribbons (upgrades with number got) on other con persons, and targetting the committee and guests was how you got tokens. Flashing cleavage perfectly acceptable. Tors proceeded to change into her Sugar outfit with this in mind. heh. Terry's Bedtime Stories was Pratchett reading extracts from the new Going Postal, which is on the resurrection of the postal system, Wintersmith, the new Tiffany and Feegles book, and Thud, a new Vimes one, which will involve vampires.
Went drinking in the Biers. :g: Colin Smythe is a terrible upper class smoothie. Tors got asked by a worried mother if she was a seamstress, then upon 'er, yes?' if she could sew. See me wander into the Hub and see her sewing a tail back onto a rat costume and point and giggle. Spent until 1am writing terrible poetry for Maskerade entry.
Saturday
Woke at 6:30, Tors went for brekkies, then texted me with 'they're not checking room nos!'. See me pelt down the stairs in bikini, bare feet, wet hair and leather strip skirt and skid across the reception floor to the Restaurant, doubling as Harga's House of Ribs. I can recommend the Hanover International in Hinckley for good brekkies. Proceeded to wake up at that hour for the next few days to ensure avoidance of room number checking. Finished dressing in Conina the Barbarian Hairdresser costume, which became daywear for the rest of the convention and rendered me highly visible and tokens-laden. Did some more work on Flossie, then went along to the Parade Rehearsal, which took a couple of hours and was mostly a matter of talking to the tech crew about what lighting and music we wanted. Us : 'Er... Music?', having already scripted to the nanosecond our entry. Though they did make us get Flossie, along with 'Oh, so *you're* the mystery entry!' (apparently due to our title of 'Sheep? What Sheep?' and being DiscCon virgins) to check that she would indeed fit through the door. Spread the Seamstress' word and continueed working on Flossie and Chaos costuming. Also got tapped on the shoulder from behind and asked 'Er, are you Heather?' (Conina costume brings high visibility), then got asked to sign a note stating time of death for the Slaughterthon.
Went Stephen Briggs interview and missed Think Vogon, where we could have entered the Really Awful poetry. Guild Meeting. See us go 'and we're *very* popular. heh. No-one has problems getting tokens off Stephen, do they? Though we're going to have to find a way to get Terry to wear his rather than stuffing them in his bag.' Metderryderrydown.
Terry Interview. In which he told us of his heart bypass, and upon being told that it would be x months wait, said 'I'm rich' and got it much quicker. And had them enter through a hole in his groin. Though apparently you do not see a bright light. If you are Pratchett you see a man proffering sandwiches, whch the surgeon can attest to, since Terry kept asking for sandwiches throughout the surgery. Many, many giggles for the rest of it, including the time he got the Carnegie medal for Amazing Maurice, and when due to be re-presented with it at the Youth Librarians do, got someone to find a chocolate coin of the same looks, and substituted it, eating it when presented with it and then fishing out the award from his pocket. Interview over, seamstresses rushed him and stuck ribbons all over him.
More Flossie. Bellydancing is way too much fun, and *then* we found out the dance was actually to the Cheeky Girls song. Muchos laughter. Including dragging one poor lad in who was passing and taking photos through the open door in and tying spare scarves on him. Belly dancing really gives your muscles a workout, we have found, by the resulting 'ow's at the end. Oh, and it appears convention bump and grinding prepares you perfectly for this. Two hours of me, Tors, Brian and Teddy standing around in our undies and putting blue paint on each other and the hotel room. Got kilted up, went downstairs, got shut away in Maskerade waiting rooms and learnt lines. Cursed camera for battery dying too quickly. (fortunately Tors' didn't) Got into character, then discovered that fingernails work just as well as cleanser for scraping away blue paint to make tattoos when I did a quick repair on Teddy's... Guessed other people's, goggled at many, and when I went out to check on Flossie in the corridor, got a glimpse of why one of the Deaths I'd seen was so shabby. Stripper! Death to the sounds of Hot Chocolate!
Got called, all nerves, (never having had to perform before), lifted Flossie and did the 'Hut! Hut! Hut!' out onto the stage, did the 'Oh shite, where did these fuckers come from' look... and then had to stand there for a good minute as we got cheered to the rafters. Cheering *eventually* died down, proceeded with rest of script.
Me : Fion. Tors : Angus the Gonagall. Brian : Dangerous Hamish. Teddy : Not as Big as Medium-Sized Jock but Bigger than Wee Jock Jock.
Hamish : 'Put the sheep down, lads, they may not have seen us.' :Flossie is put down rather carefully, shuffle in front of it:
Fion : 'I think they saw us.'
Hamish : 'I'll tek 'em all on!'
Fion : :whacks an arm across his throat to stop him: 'Use yer heid for thinkin' fer once, Hamish!' :snaps fingers, Angus steps forward:
Hamish blows into mousepipes : 'Ach, these never work.' Starts on poetry, rest of Feegle dive to floor with hands over their ears.
Poetry ends, get up cautiously. Fion : 'Right, lads, while they're stunned, let's offski!' Pick up Flossie with a 'Yin, Tan, Tetra' and scurry off stage.
Get shut in room whilst judges decide. Get a few photos, including one with Wee Hamish, another entrant who we forcibly adopted to the clan for being far too cute and having a fabulous costume. Stayed in character. Got called back up for reading of results, waited through the Masters (those who had previously come first) - that was the Phoenix and Death of Rats + Quoth. Journeyman (previously won prizes, just not first) - Miss Band + victim, Lady Ramkin, Band with Rocks In. Special Awards for Grace under Fire (cool costume, tech crew screwed up the performance) for Belafon's Rock (the druid from LF) and Most Outrageous Attempt to Influence the Panel, where Hughnon Ridcully ordained Terry as a god. Novice lot : 3rd joint, Dwarven Assassin Team and Didactylos, 2nd Monstrous Regiment, 1st.... Sheep? What Sheep? See us pretty much fall over in shock, especially when we were *also* presented with Best in Show, which means an 8x10" solid silver model of the Disc, complete with elephants and turtle. (we get to keep it for a year)
Apparently we won it in four seconds of coming on and we had the Feegles down perfectly, including my Fion. :does the happy dance: Had photo shoot outside, still in character due to being the best way to handle shock. As soon as they'd stopped taking photos, we hefted Flossie and took her back to room. Divested selves of kilts and wigs, scrubbed faces and hands, shoved on dirty clothes, went back to Biers. Where still stunned, I proceeded to go 'You! Susan! Carrot! Watchman whose name I can't remember! (Constable Haddock, who Terry liked so much has now got a walk-on role in Thud! - this happens regularly, including one of Teddy's mates, Queen Ynci the short-tempered at a previous con) What do you want to drink? Barmaid! Keep the change!' This happened twice. As Tors pointed out 'dear god, buying rounds is one thing, but tipping the barperson? Must be in shock.' Lots of merry drinking. 2am, Tors drags me off to get blue paint off, which took at least another hour, Stephen Briggs offering to help scrub our backs. It turns out that most of the con appears to think we're sleeping together....
Peter Morwood, head of the Assassins, (and hubbie of Diane Duane) got a contract taken out on him by mr. Briggs, so Briggs was temporarily head of them as well as the Merchants, then he got resurrected early hours of Saturday night.
Sunday
Brekkies. Church of Om, officiated by Rev. Lionel Fanthorpe in full robes and one person in style of Ian Paisley, v. funny, complete with hymns and readings. In common with all services I have been to since we had one every morning at school, hair was fixed. Though we also had some 'Amens' complete with giant foam hands. :snerk:
Stephen Briggs Klatch, at which Etymology was discussed at length, including quizzing of the French group present to see what phrases the English use that the French do not. Apparently 'vis-a-vis' is *never* used in French...
Did work as seamstress, went to Stephen Briggs talk about the audio books. Got 7/10 in the quotes quiz. Hung out with Dave Langford in Biers, lovely chap. Guild meeting, where we crowed about our success, and praised Laura the ten year-old, most mercenary little child you've ever seen, who had apparently taken to selling the higher grade of ribbons for as many tokens as she could get. Flossie got stolen by the Thieves and ransomed. Bastards.
Collapsed for a bit, and instead of going to Assassins Gala Dinner, the Thread and Needle Specialists and Brian (honorary member, although Fools Guild) went for a Chinese and proceeded to be very silly. Got back for the end, had photo taken with Stephen in full Vetinari gear, as well as Cohen and Pam (the official Granny Weatherwax of the fandom), who was protesting that Granny Weatherwax was too old to be seen with such young girls. We pointed out that she was friends with Mrs. Palm. Watched Rachel Hayward, steel drummer, for a bit, drank lots. Went into Biers, drank more, sang, sang more, played Zen and the Art of Balloon Keepy-Up (one must keep it in the air with the lightest of touches) for a good half-hour or more. More singing. Impromptu piece of can-can with Derry that got us extra tokens from Stephen. Drinkies. Sang large amount of Rocky Horror Picture Show, then *all* of Buffy the Musical. Kept drinking and talking. Discovered it was 5am. Pondered going to bed. Tors did. It got to 5:30am and we decided that we might as well stay up until breakfast, go for shower, then *possible* nap.
Monday
Brekkies, passed pool, went 'oooooo', charged up to room for other bikini and towel. Went swimming, showered, changed, scrubbed carpet of blue paint. Carpet much easier than skin. Danced with Feegle. (Highland Dancing) Derry, who was running it, is a cruel taskmaster. Skirt came flying off at one point with the lads crying 'Finally, the power of telekinesis works!' When she put the music on for the Gay Gordon, we went through it, *then* she declared it 'last couple standing'. This turned out to be literally. And yes, me and my partner did win, thank you so much. :g: Competitive when it comes to dancing? Me? Stagger, drink, finished off food, dismantled Flossie, packed and changed.
Closing ceremony : It turns out that the midget assassins can be just as mercenary as the midget seamstresses - Stephen Briggs got stabbed in the knee by one, killing him, two tokens demanded for resurrection, *then* tried to sell him insurance. Assassins won by 20 points. And yes, the Seamstresses are already plotting revenge for next time... Thieves Guild were stealing things, selling insurance, Assassins - kills and insurance, Plumbers and Dunnekin Divers - charging for use of loos, Fools - really awful tricks, Alchemists - Chocolate making, Musicians - getting paid for it, Merchants - not entirely sure, Conjurors - Sleight of Hand. Seamstresses also got a hell of a lot for general convention advice and Thread and Needle work as well as the usual, surprisingly. Yours truly also got a lot of tokens off Peter Morwood for giving him a neck rub on Monday.
Spent Tuesday mostly asleep.
This con hath opened my eyes, and I've never had so much fun. It started on Friday, approx 3pm, and continued (officially) until 5pm monday. With extra piss-ups after that.
Friday
Got there, with sheep in to-be-made form, hassled
tirinar for being disorganised and then got yelled at, (I get super-anal about travel arrangement stuff), signed up for the Maskerade, looked at the schedule and wished for three bodies so could do all the stuff I wanted, signed up for Klatches (8-person talks with guests, rather good way to get one-on-one time besides running into them in the bar), got a nice lad called Brian to agree to joining the Feegles, and both me and Tors joined the Seamstresses Guild. (You joined a Guild of your choice, there were meetings during the weekend in which we discussed ways of scoring points and making presence known, heads of the Guild being guests) Started making Flossie, and somehow got roped into helping occasionally with Chaos Costuming (also the Guild heaquarters) as a Thread and Needle Specialist.Opening Ceremony indeed silly, beginning with video of the committee being led in by pipers and rats with zombified expressions, and Guild heads being declared. Stephen Briggs being rather peeved that he didn't get the Assassins but rather the merchants. Guild meeting, Diane Duane (see 'So you Want to be Wizard' series and many, many Trek books) as head. Diane made the point through giggling lots that it was impossible to say anything in the presence of a seamstress that didn't consist of a double entendre.... It was decided that we'd spread visibility by tying ribbons (upgrades with number got) on other con persons, and targetting the committee and guests was how you got tokens. Flashing cleavage perfectly acceptable. Tors proceeded to change into her Sugar outfit with this in mind. heh. Terry's Bedtime Stories was Pratchett reading extracts from the new Going Postal, which is on the resurrection of the postal system, Wintersmith, the new Tiffany and Feegles book, and Thud, a new Vimes one, which will involve vampires.
Went drinking in the Biers. :g: Colin Smythe is a terrible upper class smoothie. Tors got asked by a worried mother if she was a seamstress, then upon 'er, yes?' if she could sew. See me wander into the Hub and see her sewing a tail back onto a rat costume and point and giggle. Spent until 1am writing terrible poetry for Maskerade entry.
Saturday
Woke at 6:30, Tors went for brekkies, then texted me with 'they're not checking room nos!'. See me pelt down the stairs in bikini, bare feet, wet hair and leather strip skirt and skid across the reception floor to the Restaurant, doubling as Harga's House of Ribs. I can recommend the Hanover International in Hinckley for good brekkies. Proceeded to wake up at that hour for the next few days to ensure avoidance of room number checking. Finished dressing in Conina the Barbarian Hairdresser costume, which became daywear for the rest of the convention and rendered me highly visible and tokens-laden. Did some more work on Flossie, then went along to the Parade Rehearsal, which took a couple of hours and was mostly a matter of talking to the tech crew about what lighting and music we wanted. Us : 'Er... Music?', having already scripted to the nanosecond our entry. Though they did make us get Flossie, along with 'Oh, so *you're* the mystery entry!' (apparently due to our title of 'Sheep? What Sheep?' and being DiscCon virgins) to check that she would indeed fit through the door. Spread the Seamstress' word and continueed working on Flossie and Chaos costuming. Also got tapped on the shoulder from behind and asked 'Er, are you Heather?' (Conina costume brings high visibility), then got asked to sign a note stating time of death for the Slaughterthon.
Went Stephen Briggs interview and missed Think Vogon, where we could have entered the Really Awful poetry. Guild Meeting. See us go 'and we're *very* popular. heh. No-one has problems getting tokens off Stephen, do they? Though we're going to have to find a way to get Terry to wear his rather than stuffing them in his bag.' Met
derryderrydown.Terry Interview. In which he told us of his heart bypass, and upon being told that it would be x months wait, said 'I'm rich' and got it much quicker. And had them enter through a hole in his groin. Though apparently you do not see a bright light. If you are Pratchett you see a man proffering sandwiches, whch the surgeon can attest to, since Terry kept asking for sandwiches throughout the surgery. Many, many giggles for the rest of it, including the time he got the Carnegie medal for Amazing Maurice, and when due to be re-presented with it at the Youth Librarians do, got someone to find a chocolate coin of the same looks, and substituted it, eating it when presented with it and then fishing out the award from his pocket. Interview over, seamstresses rushed him and stuck ribbons all over him.
More Flossie. Bellydancing is way too much fun, and *then* we found out the dance was actually to the Cheeky Girls song. Muchos laughter. Including dragging one poor lad in who was passing and taking photos through the open door in and tying spare scarves on him. Belly dancing really gives your muscles a workout, we have found, by the resulting 'ow's at the end. Oh, and it appears convention bump and grinding prepares you perfectly for this. Two hours of me, Tors, Brian and Teddy standing around in our undies and putting blue paint on each other and the hotel room. Got kilted up, went downstairs, got shut away in Maskerade waiting rooms and learnt lines. Cursed camera for battery dying too quickly. (fortunately Tors' didn't) Got into character, then discovered that fingernails work just as well as cleanser for scraping away blue paint to make tattoos when I did a quick repair on Teddy's... Guessed other people's, goggled at many, and when I went out to check on Flossie in the corridor, got a glimpse of why one of the Deaths I'd seen was so shabby. Stripper! Death to the sounds of Hot Chocolate!
Got called, all nerves, (never having had to perform before), lifted Flossie and did the 'Hut! Hut! Hut!' out onto the stage, did the 'Oh shite, where did these fuckers come from' look... and then had to stand there for a good minute as we got cheered to the rafters. Cheering *eventually* died down, proceeded with rest of script.
Me : Fion. Tors : Angus the Gonagall. Brian : Dangerous Hamish. Teddy : Not as Big as Medium-Sized Jock but Bigger than Wee Jock Jock.
Hamish : 'Put the sheep down, lads, they may not have seen us.' :Flossie is put down rather carefully, shuffle in front of it:
Fion : 'I think they saw us.'
Hamish : 'I'll tek 'em all on!'
Fion : :whacks an arm across his throat to stop him: 'Use yer heid for thinkin' fer once, Hamish!' :snaps fingers, Angus steps forward:
Hamish blows into mousepipes : 'Ach, these never work.' Starts on poetry, rest of Feegle dive to floor with hands over their ears.
Poetry ends, get up cautiously. Fion : 'Right, lads, while they're stunned, let's offski!' Pick up Flossie with a 'Yin, Tan, Tetra' and scurry off stage.
Get shut in room whilst judges decide. Get a few photos, including one with Wee Hamish, another entrant who we forcibly adopted to the clan for being far too cute and having a fabulous costume. Stayed in character. Got called back up for reading of results, waited through the Masters (those who had previously come first) - that was the Phoenix and Death of Rats + Quoth. Journeyman (previously won prizes, just not first) - Miss Band + victim, Lady Ramkin, Band with Rocks In. Special Awards for Grace under Fire (cool costume, tech crew screwed up the performance) for Belafon's Rock (the druid from LF) and Most Outrageous Attempt to Influence the Panel, where Hughnon Ridcully ordained Terry as a god. Novice lot : 3rd joint, Dwarven Assassin Team and Didactylos, 2nd Monstrous Regiment, 1st.... Sheep? What Sheep? See us pretty much fall over in shock, especially when we were *also* presented with Best in Show, which means an 8x10" solid silver model of the Disc, complete with elephants and turtle. (we get to keep it for a year)
Apparently we won it in four seconds of coming on and we had the Feegles down perfectly, including my Fion. :does the happy dance: Had photo shoot outside, still in character due to being the best way to handle shock. As soon as they'd stopped taking photos, we hefted Flossie and took her back to room. Divested selves of kilts and wigs, scrubbed faces and hands, shoved on dirty clothes, went back to Biers. Where still stunned, I proceeded to go 'You! Susan! Carrot! Watchman whose name I can't remember! (Constable Haddock, who Terry liked so much has now got a walk-on role in Thud! - this happens regularly, including one of Teddy's mates, Queen Ynci the short-tempered at a previous con) What do you want to drink? Barmaid! Keep the change!' This happened twice. As Tors pointed out 'dear god, buying rounds is one thing, but tipping the barperson? Must be in shock.' Lots of merry drinking. 2am, Tors drags me off to get blue paint off, which took at least another hour, Stephen Briggs offering to help scrub our backs. It turns out that most of the con appears to think we're sleeping together....
Peter Morwood, head of the Assassins, (and hubbie of Diane Duane) got a contract taken out on him by mr. Briggs, so Briggs was temporarily head of them as well as the Merchants, then he got resurrected early hours of Saturday night.
Sunday
Brekkies. Church of Om, officiated by Rev. Lionel Fanthorpe in full robes and one person in style of Ian Paisley, v. funny, complete with hymns and readings. In common with all services I have been to since we had one every morning at school, hair was fixed. Though we also had some 'Amens' complete with giant foam hands. :snerk:
Stephen Briggs Klatch, at which Etymology was discussed at length, including quizzing of the French group present to see what phrases the English use that the French do not. Apparently 'vis-a-vis' is *never* used in French...
Did work as seamstress, went to Stephen Briggs talk about the audio books. Got 7/10 in the quotes quiz. Hung out with Dave Langford in Biers, lovely chap. Guild meeting, where we crowed about our success, and praised Laura the ten year-old, most mercenary little child you've ever seen, who had apparently taken to selling the higher grade of ribbons for as many tokens as she could get. Flossie got stolen by the Thieves and ransomed. Bastards.
Collapsed for a bit, and instead of going to Assassins Gala Dinner, the Thread and Needle Specialists and Brian (honorary member, although Fools Guild) went for a Chinese and proceeded to be very silly. Got back for the end, had photo taken with Stephen in full Vetinari gear, as well as Cohen and Pam (the official Granny Weatherwax of the fandom), who was protesting that Granny Weatherwax was too old to be seen with such young girls. We pointed out that she was friends with Mrs. Palm. Watched Rachel Hayward, steel drummer, for a bit, drank lots. Went into Biers, drank more, sang, sang more, played Zen and the Art of Balloon Keepy-Up (one must keep it in the air with the lightest of touches) for a good half-hour or more. More singing. Impromptu piece of can-can with Derry that got us extra tokens from Stephen. Drinkies. Sang large amount of Rocky Horror Picture Show, then *all* of Buffy the Musical. Kept drinking and talking. Discovered it was 5am. Pondered going to bed. Tors did. It got to 5:30am and we decided that we might as well stay up until breakfast, go for shower, then *possible* nap.
Monday
Brekkies, passed pool, went 'oooooo', charged up to room for other bikini and towel. Went swimming, showered, changed, scrubbed carpet of blue paint. Carpet much easier than skin. Danced with Feegle. (Highland Dancing) Derry, who was running it, is a cruel taskmaster. Skirt came flying off at one point with the lads crying 'Finally, the power of telekinesis works!' When she put the music on for the Gay Gordon, we went through it, *then* she declared it 'last couple standing'. This turned out to be literally. And yes, me and my partner did win, thank you so much. :g: Competitive when it comes to dancing? Me? Stagger, drink, finished off food, dismantled Flossie, packed and changed.
Closing ceremony : It turns out that the midget assassins can be just as mercenary as the midget seamstresses - Stephen Briggs got stabbed in the knee by one, killing him, two tokens demanded for resurrection, *then* tried to sell him insurance. Assassins won by 20 points. And yes, the Seamstresses are already plotting revenge for next time... Thieves Guild were stealing things, selling insurance, Assassins - kills and insurance, Plumbers and Dunnekin Divers - charging for use of loos, Fools - really awful tricks, Alchemists - Chocolate making, Musicians - getting paid for it, Merchants - not entirely sure, Conjurors - Sleight of Hand. Seamstresses also got a hell of a lot for general convention advice and Thread and Needle work as well as the usual, surprisingly. Yours truly also got a lot of tokens off Peter Morwood for giving him a neck rub on Monday.
Spent Tuesday mostly asleep.
