Over the last six days I’ve been in Auckland at the National SF Convention. It was a great trip, (although as usual the bus companies were so incompetant that they left me wondering how they make a living. Last year I went to and from the con down in Wellington entirely by bus but had considerable problems getting them to actually provide the tickets paid for and not tickets for some other days/times. And the trip home with a friend coming to stay after the con was terrifying. We had a bus driver who had the bus all over the road and by the time we alighted, we were shades of green (me) and white (her) from sheer fright and waiting for the crash.) This time it was just their inability to get the tickets right that occurred, although that provided stress and irritation enough. The hotel was the same one as we used in 2012, a pleasant smallish place with good facilities and very suitable for a convention. I’d been asked to be the NZ Profesional GoH, and accepted with pleasure. The con was run by friends I’ve known in one case for just over 30 years, and in the other case a few years less. But both are excellent administrators, and I had the great time that I expected. I found stacks of unread books to bring back, had excellent co-GoHs, met stacks of friends I usually only see at cons, and even had a day to relax afterwards while staying with my con-admin friends 6 days later I’m home again, exhausted, to a cat greeting me frantically, geese scolding me vigorously, two blown lightbulbs, my leg going on strike when I got up this morning because of all the trotting about, and 80 emails requiring attention. Oh, and the confounded bus staggered to my stop around half an hour late. But I’m back and east, west, home’s best.
