I found this post in draft form on my hard drive today whilst wondering what on Earth to write about today. It goes like that sometimes doesn’t it? You have to write just to get the words out but know that you might write utter shite in that same effort. Me’h, I don’t care. The fact I’m sitting here pumping the words out and not playing with my urethra tells me I have chosen the more productive of options.
So, what have I won? Well, it would appear I am in possession of a golden ticket for the upcoming Black Library Weekender…
… to be held in Nottingham later this year. I think there were only eighteen of these bad boys on offer and so I feel justified in my glee. Having been a fairly big fan of the Games Workshop and more specifically its publishing arm, the Black Library, for many a year now this event to me is a big deal. Seriously, when I knew I had won a ticket I was as happy as this guy…
The fart decimated the area around him for twenty yards and blew a hole straight through his underwear, but everyone agreed it was worth looking this pleased about.
The weekend promises to be crazy fun and I know I’ll enjoy it but there’s two main reasons why I want to go:
- I get to meet the authors, poke them and see if they really are human.
- I get to have a twenty-minute chat with an editor. This is the big one for me. You spend your whole writing life trying to get your shit in front of editors and so this is just too good to pass up. The total expense of buying the ticket, booking the hotel and estimating the amount of booze I’m likely to get through is going to be a tad on the heavy side but I’m hoping it’s going to be worth it. If nothing else, maybe they’ll take a look at my stuff and tell me to try origami instead. I could argue that I’m pretty good at the ‘paper ball’ already but doubtless they’ll show me how to make an even more aerodynamic one using my own manuscript. Awesome.
I made a total arse of myself the other day when I called to book the hotel. You know those moments where subconsciously you’re saying to yourself, nay, shouting to yourself ‘DON’T BE AN ARROGANT ARSE’, but you just can’t help it? I had a moment.
‘Hello. Is that the Belfry Hotel?’
‘Yes sir, it certainly is, what can I do for you today?’
‘I’d like to book a room please. I arrive on the Friday and would like to stay for three nights, leaving on the Monday.’
‘Okay, let me see what we have available.’
‘Oh, I should mention that it’s for the Black Library Weekender.’
‘Oh right? Do they have a corporate rate here at the Belfry?’
‘Err, yes. Did I mention my golden ticket?’
‘No sir. What ticket is that?’
‘I have a golden ticket. There was only eighteen. I have one.’
‘Okay sir, I’m not seeing any concessions for a golden ticket.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. I was just saying, you know, that I have one… a golden one.’
‘There was only eighteen and I have one.’
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
‘No, I’m sorry.’
I’ve no idea why I felt the need to apologise to the girl but I don’t know, I sounded like an arse in my head. Hopefully, she won’t be working the day I check in and I won’t have to pretend I’m blind again. Pretending to be blind by the way, although morally ambiguous is bloody good laugh. I used to work as a life guard in a swimming pool and as you do, I wore shades just about all day. My colleague was in on the joke too. Every so often, especially during busy periods one of would get up from our ‘chair of sexiness’, pick up a white stick which we kept next to the chair and walk up and down the poolside sweeping the stick back and forth. Whoever’s turn it was not to be waving the stick would watch the reaction on parents face as they pointed and gasped. A blind lifeguard eh? Priceless.
Oh one last thing. Whilst running a spell checker in WordPress, I was a little dismayed to have it come up with this alternative:
There’s no fooling this computer is there?
Is scary how accurate this actually is. I don’t believe either of us got any action through sitting on that chair.