It’s been said that I should stop moping in my room of a weekend, and here is the perfect opportunity to socialise with like-minded people who aren’t exactly complete strangers, although the whole meeting-new-people thing has my heart hammering just at the contemplation of it, never mind the general offputtingness of going to London. I’m a northern lass, deep down, and I’m just not good with cities (Budapest? It’s a village!)… driving there, or train travel, which probably means getting there late and everyone will already know each other… finding a hotel or something… oh, oh, PANIC!!!
Maybe it’s a bad idea.
Later…
I’m getting over-excited about the blogmeet thingy now. I had to sit quietly and sip my tea for a few minutes. Can’t you tell I don’t get out much?
If you are likely to meet me tomorrow evening, my care instructions are as follows: · I’m not good with hugging. Under pressure, I can do the luvvie-style kiss on both cheeks thing. That’s because I’m so cosmopolitan. · I have an appalling memory for faces and names. Believe me, I am revising like hell today: reading blogs and trying to memorise facts. I am certain to make some terrible blog faux-pas. · I do not own a PDA (I don’t even know what it stands for), my digital camera is in Hungary, my mobile phone is the most basic model, and my watch is powered by clockwork (novel, huh?) What the hell am I going to talk about? · I can most easily be recognised by the stylish blue plastercast on my right arm. I have not yet test-driven the cast in a pub environment, and may lack co-ordination. Offers to hold my drink for me will, however, be refused. · I will probably be found in the orbit of Mike and Stuart. Hiding behind them.