I owe you all a blog post, I know.
I have plenty of things to say about Eroticon. I always do. I've even started one of those "ten things..." posts, which will get done - although quite when, I'm not sure - but it will need serious rewrites before I even get close to posting it. I barely ever rewrite anything, so that does mean something.
I've been in something of a daze since the weekend. If you were there, you may have noticed that I had a bit of a cold during 'con (and, indeed, I left the Fetish.com session because I almost choked). I wasn't alone; my good friend Rose had a cold just as bad and, on Saturday morning before the venue opened, we sat in Caffé Nero swapping tips for how to make it through. I'd like to think that, given the circumstances, I did.
Immediately following the closing plenary (during which I won a prize... but I've given the guys from Hot Octopuss the wrong address... which may be a problem...), I dithered about what to do. I wanted to go for a relaxing drink with the remaining delegates, but I'd also promised to attend a musical event that evening.
I chose the musical event, which was - with hindsight - a mistake. I made it about as far as Stockwell before I got completely lost, and ended up panicking for 45 minutes, walking through increasingly heavy snow with no hat, gloves or scarf. By the time I found the pub, I was a changed man. Weak with hunger, desperate for the toilet and shivering all over - not to mention soaked to the skin - I made it to the event with only 30 minutes left. I went on stage, spoke my way through two songs (effectively using up what was left of my voice), and then phased out completely.
How I got home that evening I'll never know. I used to commute to (and from) Waterloo, which is where I ended up, so at least I had a route.
Yesterday morning I had a doctor's appointment (for something completely unrelated), but by this point was too ill to dismiss what I had as a cold. I was disgnosed with bronchitis and put on (vegetarian) amoxicillin. Walking through the snow for an hour had probably led to the inflammation, but to be honest, I'd probably have been susceptible enough anyway.
Standing up hurts. It hurts to breathe; it hurts to talk; it hurts to move. It hurts to write, but it hurts more to not write. I want to. There's so much more I can say. But if I'm going to have to take rest breaks while writing a mere blog post, then maybe that's a sign that I need to slow down. If only a little.
But, for what it's worth, I really enjoyed Eroticon.