It's been Carpentry Chaos at home this week - with the Capt. taking on the horrendous task of building eight touring wardrobes, from scratch, before the wagon comes to get them next Tuesday evening. This has meant a lot of cash coughed up front for tools and materials (and Steve the Monkey), and has meant that I wind up with the job I'm really not very good at: -

Yep, that would be SAHM. Against the loud and ceaseless backdrop of nailguns, routers and extreme stress coming from the garage, I've been going equally - if slightly more quietly - crazy. I've done no work, my wordcount has been royally butt-fucked and by last Thursday night I was about ready to pick up that nailgun myself.

As chance would have it, though, the Bristol Comic Con came to my rescue - a Friday of lumping boxes and setting up stalls - routine familiar; location all new. I've been far too used to the Con being in the old engine shed at Bristol Temple Meads... what is this 'carpet' of which you speak?

Was a fun little Con, tightly-packed a tad too sweaty (how did the rubber Green Lantern manage it?) Sweat and claustrophobia, though, could be eased by walking across to the second hotel where the boys from GeekSyndicate had blagged prime space in the bar. Guests included Kev O'Neill, Davids Lloyd and Gibbons (always chuffed when they greet me like a friend), Gary Erskine (met for the first time in the flesh after leaving multiple sarky comments on my FaceBook page), Paul Cornell (this time tormented with Tribbles), Tony Lee (the Man, The Myth, the Legend) and Liam Sharp (who still hasn't signed the book he threw at me at EasterCon).

Glad to put faces to many email contacts and to see the Bristol store's 'old guard' coming together for an FP reunion - talking about how they miss the industry and how it feels to be back, even if temporarily. Guess once you're bitten, you never lose the mark!

After much beer and weary-footed trading, I dragged myself home last night to discover that Captain Chaos was STILL in the garage, the router was STILL screaming and there is sawdust in everything. Oh and I mean everything!

If I get through the next three days without picking up that nailgun and going on a demented death-rampage, I'm buying champagne.

And drinking it somewhere quiet while I get some BLOODY WORK DONE!!!