the_new_scum

So Bristol was awesome, despite the amazing expense that it turned out to be. I wasnt too bad with the actual convention spending this time around, but the train ticket and accomodation killed my wallet. Next time I'll be a bit more organised so it's cheaper.

Friday

Arrived into Bristol after a somewhat annoying train journey. It went without a hitch for the most part, but a changeover in Newport put a damper on things. Fuck me, that place is bleak. The train from Newport into Bristol was a horrifying ordeal where myself and Martin tried to block out the nearby students who clearly were the only people in the world to really appreciate music.

We arrived into the sweltering heat of Bristol at about 6pm and set about finding out lodgings, which I found to be surprisingly nice given Martin's horrific track record. Contact was made with ikaruga who showed the patience of a saint in directing us to the Wetherspoons he and his cohorts were at. I ate gammon, drank Kopparberg and was then introduced to Purple Rain. I would regret this later on.

After getting through many pitchers we retired to the hotel bar to gaze sheepishly at industry professionals. I had a very enjoyable drunk conversation with a canadian fellow which naturally turned to the subject of ice hockey and how awesome it is. Drunk and tired we took the long walk back to the hostel ready for the morning.

Saturday

"Where the fuck are you, Sean Phillips? Damn thing started an hour ago and you're still not here"

Between waiting for the convention itself to start up and then waiting along with one other dude for Phillips to arrive, I've been on my feet for a while and so far have nothing to show for it. As I'm becoming despondant I spot Phil Noto has shown up downstairs and is just milling around. He's not due to be doing anything, but apparently will be doing a few sketches now before buggering off. There's nobody save for a small child stood by his table. I'll quickly change queues now while I have the chance.

Sure all his women have the same faces, but its still awesome. Very pleased with it.

I leave the room and go to have a look around artist's alley with the possibility of getting Phil Winslade or somebody else. On the way I spot the ever-elusive Mr Phillips so double-back and follow him back to the room he's set up in.

I was actually a little worried about this one during it's creation. I left it with him when it was about 75% done so I could get Mark Buckingham. Clearly i need to learn not to judge too soon because it turned out fantastic. I love it more every time I look at it. Speaking of Buckingham, I secured myself a fantastic Rose Red

A little milling was done after that and I went to catch up with ikaruga who was still in the queue for Ian Churchill. Meanwhile I managed to secure a Charlie Adlard for Huw with zero waiting because he'd cut his line off a bit too early.

Meeting ikaruga again later, I dumped some stuff while he went to hassle Dougie Braithwaite. Meanwhile I went and checked out Neil Edwards again, partially because he was such a lovely, amiable chap in Wrexham. Turns out that because of deadlines and wanting to spend time with his family, he had driven from Wrexham to Bristol and was driving back home the Saturday night before returning Sunday morning Once again he looked through my sketchbook with child-like excitement before spotting his own Reed Richards and suddenly remembering who I was. Of the artists I've got sketches from, he's the one I've found it easiest to talk with despite my own shyness. He drew me a lovely Sue Richards and we joked about how tempting it must be to just hand back a blank page with "She's invisible" as an explanation.

Annoyingly I missed out on Jesus Saiz who I would've liked, and also didnt manage to get anything from Jock. I was in the appropriate room at the time but he had a sizeable queue. Both he and Andy Diggle were very entertaining while I was waiting for Steve Yeowell though. Got a Zenith for Huw and a Jack Knight Starman for myself.

Convention finished for the day and I went to find Martin. Starving, we went in search of food. Finding almost nowhere that wasnt completely jam-packed, we discovered a small pizzaria with photos of celebrities all over the place. If Alfred Molina can give them a signed photo then their pizza must be at least edible, right? It was great. Milled around back at the hostel for a bit before returning to the Ramada to check out Mine Power Cosmic. Phil Winslade is a fuck of a guitarist, although tiredness made us abandon early and retire to bed at something like 11pm. FAIL!

Sunday

After seeing ikaruga's fantastic Ian Churchill sketch I endeavoured to get one myself, knowing that it would be quite the commitment. Using Martin's spare exhibitor pass I got into the Mercure earlier than opening time and set myself up in his queue. Even being very near the front, Churchill having to disappear to the Elephantmen panel meant that it was about 12:30 before he'd even started on mine. Good lord that man takes him time, but fucking hell does it show

Happily disappearing with my Cyclops sketch, I quickly went back over to the Ramada hoping to catch Jesus Saiz only to find I'd been wrong about his appearance time. Fuckbeans, he's already capped the line. Already having pretty much everything else I wanted, I went outside and relaxed for a little while in the sun. Satisfying.

The train back was horrific, running over an hour late and with the A/C in our carraige broken. As much as I could say it was awful, at least I didnt try and liken it to being a "prisoner of war" like one stupid old woman did. Angrily we made our way back through the UK's complicated and antiquated rail network, happy that I'd been as geeky as possible for the weekend.