The Bristol Comics Expo begins in earnest today, but plenty of people arrived yesterday. Friday at a comics gathering is for catching up, getting a few drinks in and wandering round whatever city you're in, searching for a good meal. The fatal mistake too many people make is forgetting that Friday night meal, or leaving it too late. Get some food in early enough, you can drink to the wee small hours and still be up in time for the hotel breakfast. Leave it too late - or, Grud forbid, forget to eat at all - and oblivion is yours come Saturday morning. A blinding hangover gives you an unwanted wakeup call round 4.30am and it's a long day in hell ahead. Comics convention can be enjoyable experiences if you're in the industry or a comics enthusiast. But hangovers are not the perfect accompaniment.
So last night I got nattering to writer Paul Cornel and artist John Burns, both of whom were in fine fettle [whatever the hell that means]. Had a lovely chat with artist Henry Flint and lovely wife. And went out for a meal with writer Rob Williams and artists Chris Weston, Steve Yeowell and Laurence Campbell. Heard a scandalous story about a creator, bodily fluids and the garb of an exotic film actress - alas, legal issues prevent me from publishing the details here. Let's just say it involves the words spunk, bashed and videotape, and leave it at that, shall we?
The Ramada Plaza is Bristol isn't bad, though it's high-speed internet access leaves something to be desired: speed. Still, when I left my toothpaste at home, a word at reception and housekeeping delivered a replacement tube within two minutes. Knowing I probably won't see food today, I've eaten my way through the breakfast buffet, though I got four faults and a refusal when it came to scrambled eggs and baked beans. Not my scene, those baked beans. Before I go any more Doctor Suess, I'll go brush my teeth. Later for you.