Swanwick Day 6: It Doesn’t Happen By Magic
It’s all a bit of a blur: Malcolm Chislholm showed us how to use Twitter and Facebook; how to set up a website for free – and how to publish a POD book via Lulu. Elsewhere in the Hayes, Della was teaching a class how to write erotica. It is Thursday, so there were baked potatoes for lunch – and ice-cream!
At the AGM, we cheered the departing committee members and applauded the incoming ones. Martin Brocklebank spoke for all of us when he said ‘the magic of Swanwick doesn’t happen by magic’ and we acknowledged the huge amount of work that went into organising this year’s wonderful summer school. Xanthe was awarded the quaich. Phil Collins, Alan Green and Zana Lamont won the prizes for Write, Camera, Action.
The dregs party was on the lawn, despite the chill breeze, and we drank wine. We sang ‘show me the way to go home’; not quite the same as Katy’s red. red rose. We sang it so badly the first time, Joyce made us do it again! Dinner was roast chicken – and we drank wine.
Five copies of Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook were awarded for the best tie-breakers in the Chairman’s competition (whisper – and I won one of them). The wonderful Helen Lederer kept us roaring with laughter throughout her talk and especially reading her ‘sexy’ short story. We followed tradition and sang Auld Lang Syne – John Lamont made sure we got the words right and didn’t hold hands too soon.
We retired to the bar or the vinery to chat; some stalwarts sang in the lounge. We drank wine.
We went to the last night disco – when did sixty minutes become so long, and legs become so old? A man in a kilt danced with a chicken. Did I mention we drank some wine?
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