burntcopper | CCDE 05, aka Discworld gone camping

Friday :

Piled everything in, then set off for Watford to collect

wiccachik. Cursed AA directions for directing me through least direct route to M4, right through all the traffic lights and Cemetery Junction, (think traffic blackspot from hell) rather than going through Pangbourne and joining it at J12. It also did this for the way out of Watford. Suspect maliciousness on part of AA routeplanner.

Picked up Taz, spent ridiculous amounts on food at M&S (we later discovered that deli food is not the best for camping), then hied ourselves to Tescos and bought alcohol and picnic crockery. AA directions got us completely lost on the way to the M25. Then hit the oh-so-lovely M25 jams. Finally got to Woolpit around six or so, set tent up (fortunately sans complications), and met up with Brian and a few others of previous acquaintance. (most common statement of my reminding people was 'I was the one wearing the bikini' - it's the first time I've been recognised for the amount of clothes I'm *not* wearing) also started the 'our tent? Look for the flag.' 'The flag? Oh, gotcha.' (there are advantages to having a ridiculously big white flag, not least of which is being able to find it in the dark) Went to the AFP barbie, where we messed around, chatted to RandomC, CTony and a few others, tested the food, and then went up to the pub where there was singing. Lots of singing. Seriously. Not only can you not stop the Musicians Guild (identified by their guitars being welded to their hands) from playing, you also cannot stop discworld fans from singing once they start. With pattern of 'argh, does anyone remember how this one starts?' and 'er... can remember the first verse and chorus, can't remember the second' being repeated many a time. Lots of folk and then bits of jazz. Also musicals and Monty Python. Actually sang ourselves hoarse, which is impressive.

Staggered back to tent at ungodly hour of 12:30 am. It's just *wrong* to be going to bed before 2am at a con, let alone the usual 4:30/5 am that is usual. Suspect is something to do with lack of electric light. Found that someone in a tent right by us snores ... interestingly.

Saturday :

First thing we did was start the list of 'things to bring to the next camping session' which ranges from different food to a bigger tent and glowsticks. Then changed into bikini, and set off for the tap to wash. Was declared obsessive by Taz as most others felt they could hold off for a couple of days until there were actual showers. Me : 'Must be *clean*, dammit!' Was also declared seriously brave by others for washing in cold water, and apparently provided a free show for the lot down the hill, as well as doing so the next morning.

Bagged a Brian and did such things as registration and being seduced by the merchandising. Saw the ungodly sight of Butcher (v. large man in loincloth, helmet and accessories) walking across the field. And they think I'm brave, he's done that in winter. Then tried to learn to juggle. I can't do it just yet, but know the exercises and therefore it's a matter of practice. Watched the fencing (mostly epee competition and a couple of sabre demos), which also had explanations of how to tell the difference between the different types :

Three fencers standing in a line. The master comes up behind them and touches them on the head. The foilist automatically goes into a lunge. The eppeist does nothing. The sabreuer turns around and thumps him.

Apparently there are several stereotypes of bodyshape and personality when it comes to the different styles and they're all true.

Late for Maskerade, but thoroughly enjoyed entries - special mention to B.A.S.H. (who also had a fabulous tent set up for field surgery and distilling alcohol), Tim's William de Worde reporting on the battle going on in Woolpit 'I have no idea why they deem it necessary that I do dictation with one finger in my ear.' getting lots of cheers for sheer fabulousness, the new Borogravian uniform, and Pam's the spirit of the Duchess of Borogravia. I was found by the Clarecraft folk who wanted to know if I had the disc with me. Cue me going 'er... no-one said anything about *this* con.' Apparently there'd been large amounts of wires crossed about getting us the info about when we were supposed to give it back, not to mention the details we'd given the disccon lot for insurance purposes not being given to the Clarecraft folk. It will be given back for delivery to Pam sharpish.

Cue little story:

On friday, there was drunken singing, as always. It being Borogravia, started singing 'over the hills and far away' from Sharpe, as Monstrous Regiment is basically the Peninsula wars. Found lyrics on pda, so presented it to the rest and we sang it the whole way through,. Brian then worked out a Borogravian chorus. Then I started making up verses. (No-one else seems to have the ability to do this. See me wail 'But it's easy! Make up a line, pause and try to get something that rhymes, then do the next one! And get filthier as you go.')

Cue next day. Post maskerade, started singing new lyrics, then someone pointed that someone behind me wanted to speak. In middle of verse, turned round and there was Mr. Pratchett. See Heather squeak. Then have conversation about the fact that they did this for the stage version. Had convo about Springtime for Hitler. Then he went on stage to present masquerade rpizes. Explained why he did not have the disc to present for first prize, and described the Feegles saying 'you'll never see this again.' 'This turned out to be prophetic.', and then drew attention to me at back of room (mostly because deep red and was trying to hide behind people) and pointed out that 'Don't worry, there is such a thing as death by word processor.' Pondered whether this is anything like 'eviscerate in fiction' as espoused by Chaucer in A Knight's Tale. Other people suggested there may be a later appearance of Feegle with large silver disc-shaped object they refuse to give back. Other suggested possible blonde girl in white dress. (oh, and tall skinny bloke who looks like Nijel the Destroyer). Simon is going to die as he possesses the only fricking evidence of me turning deep red and look completely embarrassed, ever. I have never displayed any form of shame, this is all photoshopped. (btw, that's Brian in the background)

Terry talk. Fun, a certain author and translation issues with books in other countries. Food, 'ooo, flaming poi *pretty*' and Rachel playing steel drums. Then the singing started again, begun by RandomC and CTony getting the laptop so we could singalonga Buffy the Musical. At one point Terry turned up and joined in, proving his love for bluegrass and ability to actually remember all the lyrics for a song rather than the rest of us' state, which is 'oh, shite, what's the second verse?' Rain forced us inside pub, where we proceeded to bellow Andrew Lloyd Webber, fifties romantic and torch songs, the Pogues and Amazing Grace at the tops of our lungs until we were kicked out at closing time. Some of us kept singing loudly and drunkenly, wandering through the campsite in search of others. Were most disappointed to find out that the official Noisy Site were wimps and had all gone to bed. Sang 'Off to see the Wizard' loudly to demonstrate our disappointment, then me and Taz ended up in the barn (relatively warm and dry) with some of the fencing lot until around 2am.

Sunday :

*Cold*. Braved tap and once again provided free show.

Ambushed once again by merchandise tent. Got things signed by Terry and Stephen. Went to the Maskerade re-run, where we got the kiddies' maskerade, (so cute and all made by themselves the previous day! This is how you keep children occupied and non-bored at cons, people.), and also got Mini! Cunning Artificer, complete with pipe and replica stripy overalls. See Bernard go into spasms of 'awwww' and deep pride. Terry and the rest of us chatting about national anthems and morris dancing, then got the Borogravian Foriegn Legion providing the anthem as sung by Tim plus translation. Tim then did the second day's report from the Woolpit battle to much cheering. He's been asked to provide them for the newsletter, and we may have to bully him into doing reports at further cons.

Auction : Where Bernard proves he was an auctioneer in a previous life (and is fucking hysterical), the Mini Artificer was brought up for photos, (alas, didn't get one), Dave Hodges (the real life Hodgesaargh) demonstrated his many t-shirts and ability to appear in several different places in the crowd without anyone seeing him move, and about 3 thou was made for the Orangutang Foundation before Terry's major prize.

About the Major Prize : Terry informed us of the costs of Biofuel (the supposedly environmentally friendly palm oil that doesn't pollute). Apparently the Orangutang Foundation are saying that one day they'll be loooking back on the hardwood furniture fashion as the halcyon days of rainforest, since the plantations for palm oil are planted on large swathes of rainforest. Orangutangs are not fond of said plantations, since there are no bananas. (Father dearest, whose job it is finding oil in the ground for use in cars and dry cleaning places, says that actually, the reason they started using palm oil was because of the massive worldwide surplus of it, so may have to research into this more.) Personally I'll be sticking with unleaded.

Anyway, said Major Prize? A role in a future book. You get interviewed by Terry so he finds out what you're like in personality, looks etc, and then he sticks you in there somewhere, clearly recognisable to your friends and enemies, as well as a manuscript of said book before everyone else. If you don't fit in the next one, he finds a role for you in a future one. The last winner is now a Special Constable on the Clacks, Andy 'Two Swords' Hanson. This item went for 1 thou 600 or so. Yes, would have killed for this if I had the money. Also revealed that the book after Thud is going to be about football. See immense amounts of giggles elicit from crowd, we're imagining how the refs are going to cope.

Pootled around, went and stood around burger van, where me, Ctony and a couple of others got Taz and several others nearby blinking at a rendition of a selection of Tom Lehrer's finest. (somehow they're never quite prepared for the lyrics) Watched rockets from pub - looked successful from what we could see, and then buggered off home. Where I learnt that one really needs to re-fill petrol tank before hitting the M25.