Every year over the Easter weekend, the British Science Fiction Association hold a national convention. Naturally enough, it gets called an Eastercon, and each one is given a name to help distinguish it from the others. This one, because it was the third in a series run by the same team, and because it was in the year the Olympics came to London, was called Olympus – not after the Greek mountain where the Gods were said to reside, but after the largest volcano in the solar system, Olympus Mons, on Mars.
I’ve been going to Cons regularly for the last eight years or so, and I like them. They tend to be a time and place where I can actually relax end enjoy myself – even when I’m working tech. Depending on the size of the thing, there’s anywhere between 200 and 1200 like-minded people in the one hotel, with a common purpose – to have fun while geeking out about our favourite things. And even with the large conventions, you can still find your friends if you look. Some people will go on about how the smaller Cons are much easier for that sort of thing, but your friends are your friends no matter how big the event is – you’re going to know roughly where they are because you know what they’re like.
So, anyway, last month, I went to Eastercon – here’s my extended report. I took a short story I’d written and left copies lying around for people to read, I took some of my more professional writing for a critiquing workshop, and for four days I left my worries about the DWP behind. I got slightly drunk, I danced ’til two in the morning, I talked to people about things I was interested in, I did things I like doing. And now I won’t be able to do anything like it again until the next Con I go to, at the end of August. It’s my holiday. I don’t get to do it very often, so I want to be able to enjoy it when I do.