A little thing we like to call RNAConf13...

So, I'm going to make this brief. It's about 3,000 degrees outside and I've just driven back up the M1, so you're going to have to cut me some slack here.

I'm back from Conference!  Which is yippee in one way, because it means I didn't kill myself with liver failure (although not for want of trying - sorry anyone who looked for me on Saturday, I was either..err...poorly, or trying to make my head work) and boo because it means another year before I can see my lovely writer-people again.  I've had a flick through the pictures I took, and some are indecent on account of gussets, so here is a selection of the clean photos in which everyone is dressed, more or less.

The Edge. Bono not featured.

Me and Katie Fforde. Katie is the attractive one, I'm the one that looks as though someone stuck a melon on a frock and painted a face on it.

Jan and Roger, organisers of the whole shebang, and those with whom I shared a table during the glam event.

Ruth Long. I should like to point out that not all the bottles or crisps in front of her were actually consumed by Ruth and that statement will cost her a fiver next time we meet...

And finally, before we all melt... the Gala Event. Frocks and all!

As ever, I had THE most wonderful time it is possible to have, which contained Writerly Chats, Meetings with Old Friends (not that Sarah Callejo is old, but ...) and Occasions for Celebration, when the lovely Kate Johnson won the Elizabeth Goudge Cup for her Opening Chapter submission. She actually drank champagne from it later in the evening, but I can't show you a photo of that, because of gussets.

Now, if you'll all excuse me, I need a bit of a lie down. A week should do it...