Every convention is memorable for its own reasons. Some may have great programming, excellent meals out or just wonderful conversations. Some may be ruinously expensive or terrible breakfasts. FCon 2011, held in Brighton, will be remembered in years to come as The Scorcher. It also had good programming and wonderful company (you simply never run out of people to talk to at these things) but my abiding memory will be wandering down the promenade in my shorts, eating ice cream and watching beach volleyball. In October. Totally surreal. The unseasonal heatwave lifted the convention atmosphere an extra level or two above its normal stratum of friendly fun. And even if the heat created its own problems in the inadequately equipped hotel function rooms, everyone I spoke to seemed to have a great time. I know I did.
Oh, and my reading slot went well enough. I won’t say what I ended up performing, but I will only note that the “entertainment” sent at least one audience member to sleep. I’m absurdly proud of that.