So, GNS Con 2011 has now been and gone. And what a corker of a day it was. In fact, it was a hell of a weekend from start to finish. My bleary-eyed experience went something like this...
Saturday:After a quite enjoyable drive up with my sexy voiced SatNav for company, I arrived into Knighton around 3pm (ish) on the Saturday to the usual sounds of banjo’s playing and Ned Beatty squealing like a pig. Proving to be 100% rock 'n' roll to the very core, I decided to jump straight into a nice hot bath with plenty of bubbles to unwind after the drive up. Whilst relaxing amongst my bubbly kingdom, with a good sized whisky on the go and a copy of Iain Wright’s ‘The Final Winter’ to continue devouring, Mr Chamberlin rings me to announce that him and Gregory James (aka G.R. Yeates) are already in Knighton and to my utter embarrassment, are currently supping their first beers in the bar. Aha! True men – already embarking on a boozy mission! And here I am amongst my bubbles taking a bath.
Not wanting to show my true girly colours, I quickly finished the page I was on, dried off my finely-tuned Adonis-like body, and made my way to the bar – post haste. From here on banter and jocular ribbing commenced from all corners of the table. Ian Woodhead soon arrived, and after hanging up his flatcap and tying down his whippet, the fine young man quickly joined in on the chit-chat. A couple of ales later and John & Deb had arrived and were merrily supping beers with the best of us.
Time and time again conversation was craftily steered away from the monotonous subject of Facebook by me. However, as the beer flowed, so did the horrendous bullying of my good self. With undeserved jeers of ‘camp’ and the like, I sat back amongst a barrage of vicious mockery. Luckily for me, the Hall clan are a sturdy breed, so I took it all on the chin whilst inwardly my very soul wept.
Now a little on the wobbly side, we made our way to the local curryhouse where we were treated to another superb array of Indian cuisine. If memory serves me correct, everyone ordered extra-mild Kormas with lashing of cooling cream to extinguish any lingering hint of chilli, whilst I on the other hand had a rather tasty Jalfrezi with plenty of kick to it!
After (eventually) leaving the curryhouse, John and his delightful partner headed back to the H&J, no doubt to spend the rest of the evening romantically gazing into each other’s eyes, whilst the rest of us (Ian, Greg, Ade & myself) stumbled off to ‘The George’ for a few more sneaky jars. En route we encountered a much-intoxicated Ceri – knocking back dubious creamy shots provided by the local ragamuffins. A rather risqué joke later, and we were in The George, meeting the local Knighton Vampires and respective Chicken Murderers.
The usual antics followed. Tall tales of misadventure of riding 5 motorbikes simultaneously, renaming myself Howard, and much other ludicrousness, and before we knew it, it was 1.30am and time to lay our weary heads down for the night. Greg and Ian went off hand-in-hand to their respective rooms (cough cough), whilst Ade and me went back to our room where we chatted about life, love, death and the universe until Mr Sandman
came knocking...
Sunday:I opened one bleary eye to the sound of mass gunfire from Ade’s mobile phone announcing that a hangover was very much on the cards for me. Three S’s later and we were all having our full English breakfasts. Ian took one look at his and decided that he wasn’t man enough to tackle any of it. Greg ordered tea and was delighted to find that his tea tasted suspiciously like coffee – of which we soon learn he is not a fan of. For me – the hangover descended into my now very delicate belly, making me struggle with much of the breakfast. Still, looking at the pale faced Northerner opposite me who was not even able to eat a mushroom, made me feel a little better.
After breakfast, we all shot off to Craven Arms where there’s not really much to see or do apart from be coerced into haggling on the admission charge for a crappy memorabilia museum, cast our eyes over Angel Delight artwork, and peruse the Crime Ficition section of the local library.
From Craven Arms to Clun Castle, the hangover was now in full swing, with Ian’s Northerner twang beginning to bear little to no relation to the English language whatsoever. However, braving the somewhat daunting mountain that Clun Castle sits upon, after much huffing and puffing, we all got to the top, allowing us to cast our eyes over the incredible view that surrounded us. Whilst Greg struggled to breathe for the next half an hour, Ian took a number of photos of random dark holes in the castle’s walls for possible future cover artwork (I wait with baited breath for the release of ‘The Dark Hole Of Clun Castle’ or indeed the much more bizarre ‘This Castle Has A Very Gloomy Orifice’). Time was ticking on, but before we left for Wain House, Ian’s life was put in mortal danger by the advancement of a large and hairy Caterkillar that threatened to consume his left foot. Luckily Ian somehow escaped the attack with his life, but in the struggle, lost his dearest whippet to the ravenous jaws of the monstrous Caterkiller.
Going down the hill was much easier than going up it, and as we slowly descended, Ade found that his M.C. Hammer footwear added an ideal amount of cushion to allow for a very comfortable trip down.
Driving to the Smith household, we simply followed the squirrel carcases as if they were a trail of breadcrumbs. Just as an aside - for all those that are rather partial to a spot of roadkill for their evening meals – head to Clun, you’ll be sorted for weeks!
Anyway, upon arriving at the Convention, we were each greeted with the very warm welcome of Jean, who instantly made us all feel at home. Guy meeted, greeted and made the drinks for us all (orange juice very much becoming the hungover troops’ drink of the day). With much handshaking, head nodding and general greetery from everyone, we couldn’t feel more welcome.
It was nice to see so many of the regular faces (although having only been to one GNS Con previously, I still felt like a bit of a newbie). I soon made myself known to Greg Hurlstone from MHB Books who I’d already been corresponding with regarding reviews. Nice fella – sadly not at all sleazy like I’d hoped he would be!!!
As Guy set to signing books for people (including a vast array of obscure items from Shane’s usual completist collection), the ‘Ceri crowd’ flicked through scanned copies of Guy’s ‘Sexy Confessions’ books – with much heavy breathing and giggles of sordid delight!
After having another nappy-box-batch of books signed, I made my very happy way upstairs for the GNS ‘shop’. A Resurrected bottle-opener, Satan’s Snowdrop fridge-magnet and Sucking Pit coaster later (not to mention the Xmas editions of Countryman Weekly with Guy’s 2-part story in it), and I was once again up in the ‘Attic of Forgotten Treasures’, rooting around amongst numerous mountains of Sabat books and the leaning tower of Phobia.
My mission to fill in the gaps with my GR back issues was alas an absolute failure – with not one single copy of any of the GR’s that I need available. However, Ceri quickly offered a possible alternative, with possibly re-publishing the old ones at some time in the future. Top darts! So I duly handed over my ‘GR’s I need’ list to the young lady amongst a torrent of ‘Thank You’s’.
Back down from the attic, and I was outside chatting with Guy about how he would hopefully kill me in his next story. Ceri had already taken much delight from dreaming up ideas of my demise, with perhaps a little too much joy taken from imagining my fictional end. I began to get a little worried at my possible fate out here in the isolated wilderness of Clun. Ade soon sauntered off so that he could do a reading at his Bumfest or whatever the hell he wants to call it!
More chat followed whilst people dived into the wonderful spread of finger-food that the very hospitable Smith’s had kindly put on for us all. Paul (Aswang) proceeded to build up a veritable mountain of cocktail sticks on his plate as he got well and truly stuck into the gastronomic delights on offer. Meanwhile, Jean regaled me and (the still wheezing) Greg with tales of their son’s impressive running – which only served to make me feel very unfit and lazy. I had myself a wee look at the MHB collection of books that Greg had kindly brought along – admiring the unbelievable quality that Greg has achieved with his impressive publications. Thwarting any creeping notions of spending my entire month’s wages on a pile of uber-deluxe lettered tray editions, I made my way back outside to the very welcome announcement that the auction would now be commencing!
Up in the ‘Games Room’ (I’m still trying to picture Guy and Jean going hell to leather against each other with a game of Ping Pong), the auction quickly got underway with the first lot being a very limited postcard of Stan’s Snowdrop. Not knowing who this Stan fella was, or what he had to do with snowdrops, I stayed quiet and awaited the first of two lots that I really had my eye on.
Before long, Guy was introducing the first item that I was particularly keen on winning – a copy of the ‘Come On In And Join Us’ chapbook. I made my first bid, to have Andy quickly advance on my bid with his own one. I upped the ante, but the little bugger was there again with his reply. I mentally drew a £15 line in the sand and quickly found that we were already at that very number. The man clearly wanted the chapbook more than me! So, like a gentleman, I nodded my head, respectfully said that I was me done, and made a mental note to run Andy over if I should ever see him anywhere near a road!!! (Sir....I jest you not!!!!)
However....!!!! The second lot that I had my eye on proved to be much more fruitful. A signed copy of the near-mythical Bamboo Guerillas comic book strip saw only a small amount of competition, of which I soon saw down with a bid of £11. With my faith in all things good and true now restored (and not to mention a wide grin cutting across my remarkably handsome face) I was handed my winnings and stood back to enjoy the rest of the auction.
Greg (of the author variety) made a very healthy bid of £30 on a copy of ‘The Ghoul’ which proved to be a winner. But what really drew the attention of the auction spectators was the ferocious bid war that took place on the 1995 magazine copy of ‘Beyond’ that contained Guy’s short ‘Pocklington’s Walk’. The winning bid was a very neat £35 from Completist-Shane, as he will forever be known.
Anyway, auction over (no Guy...no one has room in their home for a huge hangman’s gallows!!!) we paid Ceri for our items, and then gradually people started to leave. Ian and I weren’t far behind those departing, with my journey back to Margam Village sadly looming.
After dropping Ian off at the Horse & Jockey, I exchanged my Renault Scenic Megane for five motorbikes, strapped myself across the breadth of their powerful bodies and away I went – Howard the 45 year old stuntman with a desire to murder chickens was back on the road!
And there we have it....another GNS Con over and done with. And what an excellent one it was too!!! For those that were there – it was an absolute pleasure. For those that weren’t, you really missed a great day.
See you all next year! (hopefully with family in tow this time)