*Wow, I had as many hits yesterday as days 1 through 6 combined. That is an adventure. I better make these good, I guess… (and none of them were for the Union Red Orange Radler)

TL;DR: My con time ended with a whimper, I went to the excellent Longitude Punk’d exhibit, avoided lines, toured the Museum of London, and crashed into a heap on my bed


Ah, bittersweet, the ending of a con. More bittersweet, the thinking that you’ll lend moral support to someone with a 10 am panel, after a night of fig brandy. Fortunately, or unfortunately, my internal clock has completed the switchover, so I’ve woken up at 6:30 at the latest for the last five days. Sucks to be me. Even after fig brandy.

As I dragged my sorry self down the ever-lengthening corridors at ExCel, I saw Charlie Stross, looking less haggard than I, so I congratulated him on his win and discovered that my voice was mysteriously gone. I sounded like I was giving him some mad props that he couldn’t refuse. Seeing him gave me hope for the panel since he was on it and since he was up and about, he probably wouldn’t miss it. I arrived at 9:35 and went straight into the room, as one does, to discover it more than half full already. By 9:50, there weren’t any seats available. Mihaela, of yesterday’s Croatian party moderated Charlie, Pat Cadigan and Gavin Smith on the topic of swearing in fiction. The atmosphere turned quite blue. I enjoyed the talk as much as I could, tittered at the right moments and everything else, but fig brandy, I wasn’t really feeling up for talks. (See what I did there? I inventively used fig brandy as a swear. I learned something at this talk, eh? Eh? )

I pushed on, however, and went to the time travel panel, but my heart wasn’t really in it by this time. Too bad, because I remember Ian Watson being witty, but I can’t tell you what anyone said. I might have dozed off at one point. Sorry everyone if I bothered you with my snoring.


The Soaring Splendour of St Paul’s

Fresh air! That would do the trick! And some paracetamol (Paracetamol, for the uninformed, is what people in Europe call acetaminophen. Hmm, a quick aside: You, dear reader, are now equipped for my European joke (not a joke about Europeans, silly! A joke I can tell in Europe that I can’t in Canada). Why don’t Pirates have headache medicine? Because the parrots ate ‘em all)! I didn’t really have anything planned for the afternoon, so I decided to go to the Greenwich Observatory and view the Longitude Punk’d exhibit. I managed to get there, despite dozing half the time, but my headache had begun to subside, and there was much rejoicing. And then I remembered that they usually put observatories on the tops of hills, and they did in this instance. So I ate Robin’s minstrels to give me the energy to get up there.


Aptly parked near the Longitude Punk’d exhibit

The Longitude Punk’d exhibit was a treat! Ha! The devices were to a piece, totally awesome. The write-ups for them made me actually lol. Yes, that’s right, I raised my arms for them. The best write-ups were for things that were part of the regular longitude exhibit (I’ve been to the Observatory with Boj at least once, and I remember seeing the paintings before) but the captions were golden. Outside the exhibit lay the prime meridian line. The line to go stand on it wrapped all the way around the courtyard. I considered waiting to go, but as I said I’ve been before, so I didn’t feel such a draw to it. And anyway, I crossed the meridian inside the observatory, so there.


An example of a rewritten caption. I believe the painting is actually “Encounter with the Icebergs” or something like that.

Ludicrous lines at places I’ve been. This became a theme for the rest of the day. A theme I nipped early so I didn’t have a disappointing day. Nipped after my second mega-line, this time at St. Paul’s. I’d been so moved by my memories of Firewatch, as described by Connie, that I wanted to see it again. The line to get in, four people thick, went out the door. I managed to squeeze into the “free” area for a bit, then left. Instead I went to the Museum of London, which didn’t have a line, and was totes amazing. I could have, and did, spend the entire rest of the afternoon there, leaving only when I got the boot for closing time. I did manage to see it all, though, so good.


The Prime Meridian, with no line! Um…

When I got out of there, I got turned around and wandered around near the Barbican for a bit, wondering where the heck all the tube stations were. I saw a large group of people walking in one direction, so I followed them. Rescued! I tubed it down to Tower Hill, resolving to find a pub in my CAMRA Good Beer Guide to have a tipple and something to eat before going back to the hotel, and ended up in a Pepysian pub. Nomnomnom! Drink drink drink and I was in bed by 9:30. :).