I understand the principle of air conditioning, but I don’t like hotel rooms where that’s the only option for controlling the temperature. Windows that don’t open drive me nuts.
I should try to do a little more research before settling on my travel dates. I think I might have rescheduled a tiny bit to catch Aimee Mann the night after we left. Ah, well.
Jesus, but Canada as a country (much like its southern neighbour) seems to have no ability with tea. Or, indeed, the necessity for boiling water to make it.
The art of book design is alive and wonderfully well. At WFC evidence of great cover art and typography was to be found at the Chizine and Prime/Clarkesworld tables, and in the marvellously minimalist pocket-sized volumes from Twelfth Planet Press. (There was evidence elsewhere in the room too of the kind of design that looked like it had been thrown together in MS Word in the early 90s, but the less said about that the better).
Glasgow really has some pretty shitty weather. To wit: while being tossed around and drenched by the last flail of Sandy it felt little worse than quite a lot of the weather we’ve had here this year.
Courtesy of the eclectic minds of Graham Joyce and Holly Black, I now know there was an unfortunate woman named Bridget Cleary whose husband as late as 1895, believing she had been abducted by fairies and left as a changeling, immolated her to death (this information was only one nugget from a superb panel on The Changeling).
Canada is a good place to be when you inadvertently appear on prime time Saturday night TV back home.