I’m guessing that it was a bloke at The Design Conspiracy who printed my t-shirt as the logo was positioned so that it sat neatly under my boobs, rendering it invisible unless you were less than three feet tall. Never mind, it was a nice idea…
I’m not going to go through every detail or every speech because the other 299 people there are bound to have covered if off, blog-wise and the 500+ pictures in the flickr pool provide a pretty comprehensive record of the day, but I learnt some very interesting things, including:
- the history of shaving foam
- nine ways to make a better erotic film (they had to remove Russell’s six year old son Arthur for that bit, obviously)
- why men with short legs are better swimmers
- how to chop a log
- what its like to be on Oprah
- why Ibsen and The Muppets have a lot in common
I saw the editor of The Spectator do a fabulous Al Pacino impression and The Independent’s Rhodri Marsden play a saw like a violin. And I finally met Beeker as well as making friends with Carol, Claire and Sam.
It was a fantastic day. The post-lunch Buddhist chanting session wasn’t my cup of tea, but I really enjoyed every other speaker, as well as the general chatting and milling around, the afternoon tea (courtesy of W+K) and the session at the pub afterwards.
There were goodies and freebies galore (badges, books, shaving stuff, a specially-for-interesting mix by Dino & Terry, fruit, smoothies from Innocent) and, more importantly, a real sense of everyone mucking in to make the event a success.
But the abiding memory I’ll take with me is the inscription above the stage at Conway Hall that seemed to sum everything up: