Rewind

Or how to have an exhausting weekend but still feel some sense of achievement from the whole thing.

Thursday night – finish work and dash round town before heading home. Arrive home and realise you still have to order the grocery shopping for delivery on Monday, pack clothes, label up and do release notes for 40 books, pack books. Make a start on online shopping before labelling books. Receive phone call from husband telling you he’s working till 6:30 on accounts that, by Tuesday, won’t be his responsibility any more. Laugh because you told him he’d end up working late, he always does when you take a couple of days off. Have time to finish labelling books and pack into suitcase. Realise nothing else will fit into suitcase and you have to take an extra bag. Make pancake batter and start cooking. Have pancakes go completely wrong on you and contemplate throwing the frying pan out the back door. Finally make some pancakes that look edible for husband, who arrives home at 7:30. Realise you still haven’t packed clothes and neither has he. Remember there’s a book in the fridge (don’t ask) and remove it to place in bag. Swear at printer because it won’t print off list of attendees, which is the one thing you’ve been asked to bring along. Collapse on bed with bag only half packed because husband thinks watching wrestling is more important.

Friday morning –  wake up at 3am and find self unable to fall asleep again. Toss and turn for half an hour before giving up and going downstairs to watch CSI on sky plus. Husband discovers you downstairs on sofa at 5pm having had no sleep. Sends you back to bed. Finally drop off at 6am to be woken by alarm at 6:30 (when you’d asked him to set it for 7:30). Swear. Get another half an hour’s kip before getting up. Finish packing and getting ready. Leave house at 8:45 to make 9:40 train to Birmingham. Become utterly convinced you’ve forgotten something. Spend three hours on Virgin train, with no seat reservation. Discover the electronic seat reservation thing changes after each station, so whilst it may have said, "This seat is not reserved" at Newcastle, it doesn’t follow that it won’t have changed at Durham. Finally find empty seat and refuse to move again. Tell husband you will throw pregnant lady hisy fit if asked.

Arrive in Birmingham to melting heat. Pop to Selfridges to get G&B chocolate for goody bag present. Do not buy any for self (stupid) then walk to hotel, getting sunburn on the way. Leave husband in hotel for 2 hours and visit local coffee shop to catch up with rest of committee and Bookcrossing friends. Get given the biggest t-shirt in the world to wear on Saturday (special pregnant lady size apparently!) After a couple of hours leave coffee shop (almost forgetting to pay for drink) and return to hotel and husband to watch Argentina lose. Meet up with bookcrossers in the hotel lobby and go to Pizza Express for evening. Collapse on bed at 10:15 and try to sleep. Toss and turn all night as mattress is uncomfy but at least there’s aircon.

Saturday – wake at 6:15 and fail to get back to sleep. Give up and read. Get up and shower, have breakfast. Change into tent-sized t-shirt and head to bar at 9am. Carry bags upstairs and start arranging 120 goody bags in alphabetical order whilst swigging water and fanning self. Wonder if air con will ever be turned on. Help arrange tombola and raffle prizes and sit down to tear up raffle tickets. Realise it’s past ten and people have started arriving whilst you’re hiding in a dark corner. Head off to sell sudoku puzzle and find friends. Spend whole day running around sorting problems, selling puzzles and chatting to people. Take 15 minute call from husband who is lost in Birmingham. Eventually figure out where he is and direct him back to hotel. Realise it’s lunchtime and you’ve not eaten all day. Have burger and count money so far. Sell more sudoku puzzles. Finally make it to the large table of books and pick up 1. Realise there is nothing else of interest and you still haven’t opened goody bag present. Open present and thank giver. Get given a few more books and make new friends. Refuse all offers of seats as you fear you may never get up again. Get given bottle of champagne as thank you for all hard work. Realise it’s 4pm and people are off to watch the football and everything needs tidying up. Grab 15 minutes on seat with Mark and glass of water. Wonder if you’ll ever get up again. Pack up books and find helpers to carry them out. Get out of carrying anything. Have small goody bag crisis and fend off questions about next year’s unconvention with answer of, "Can I recover from this one first?" Arrive back at hotel to watch second half of England game. Be unsurprised that England crash out on penalties. Go down to hotel lobby, comfort drunk Lynne over loss of football without using the words, "It’s only a game." Have her cry on your shoulder. Discover Vicki’s husband is trapped in lift. Worry that everyone will remember 2006 as the year England went out in the football and Rob got stuck in a lift rather than for actual event. Finally get to relax with husband and Alison and Ulen when we go out for dinner. Go back to hotel and sleep.

Sunday – realise you couldn’t do a release walk for all the money in the world. Have breakfast and bag up books ready for release walk. Pack. Say goodbye to everyone and realise another Uncon has gone by without having had time to chat to Mary. Promise we’ll attempt to do it next year (our 4th attempt), if there is a next year. Get in taxi, get to station and find there’s a train in 10 minutes. Arrive back in Newcastle by 3pm. Get home, collapse on sofa. Refuse to move until Tuesday. Realise you took the camera and didn’t take a single picture of the entire weekend.

That was the Bookcrossing Unconvention, as organised by me, Liz, Vicki and Julie. Two days later and already people want to know about next year. I don’t think we’re fully recovered from this year’s yet but strangely, despite how exhausted I was on Saturday night/Sunday, I’m prepared to do it all over again next year. My husband thinks I’m insane.

Until there is a next time…

xx