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Cambridge 3.2: Report

From: (Emmet O'Brien)
Subject: *F* Report on Cambridge 3.2 [ posting again Wednesday, apparently it didn't get out ]
Message-ID: <>
Date: Wed, 22 Nov 1995 15:30:16 GMT

  Once more, your humble narrator set forth, to meet with those others 
 of the ilk of afp, once more he had more to drink than was really a good 
 idea, once more he is posting this the following day while on the downward
 spiral to a nose-dive into a soft object [1] and subsequent sleep of at
 least 12hrs duration. Hence inaccuracies, infelicities and inadvertencies
 are liable to creep into this report, and all corrections gratefully welcomed

  Due to the nature of the bus service on which I rely, I was deposited in 
 central Cambridge significantly before the actual projected meeting time,
 and was in the process of wandering randomly from bookshop to bookshop when 
 I encountered young Duncan McGregor, he of the uncanny John Major impressions,
 and at his suggestions drifted over to the habitation of one Owen Dunn, where
 Mer Damerell and the fair-to-middling Kat were also present. Subsequently a 
 brief visit to the lair of the Damerell yielded a mouthful of most glorious
 mead for your humble narrator, and a discussion on the merits of a formal
 saliva-tasting [ DWcon committee take note ! ]. We then went and stood 
 outside in the cold for a bit, an activity which I recall as inducive to
 cuddles all around, to Owen taking a unique and brave stance by declaring he 
 did not find me in the least attractive, and to the arrival of Andrew Mobbs 
 and Strange Ian [3], who always seems to turn up at these things despite 
 never posting, which has to be illegal or immoral.

  After 20 minutes or so of standing around, we set forth to the pub, en route
 to which Owen claimed to have had Kat's baby. A setting in and consuming of
 initial beverages then ensued. Shortly thereafter the arrival of that 
 component of the Bryant Entity which bears most resemblance to Stephen Fry
 [ allegedly ], led into much discussion on DWcon, stone circles, and the
 demonstration of some of yhn's more esoteric flirting technique, involving
 shoes and ice [4] seemed once again unable to breach the iron self-control 
of Ms. Harris. I shall have to restort to less subtle approaches..

  It is my fervent hope that someone has a clearer memory of subsequent 
 sections of the conversation, as I believe Bryan said some quite quotable
 funny things but cannot for the life of me recall what they were. He also 
 showed people his shotgun scar, regardless of whether they were interested. 
 More consumption of alcoholic beverages, punctuated by the occasional 
 reshuffle to facilitate mingling, and general discourse of an articulate and
 lucid nature, punctuated by games of Mornington Crescent. During this portion 
 of the evening our presence was graced by the dusky Helen, Tim Hull, Richard 
 Judith, and Rob the ergonomist [5]. Helen suggested an afp wedding be carried
 out at DWcon, which raised green buds of inspiration in several attendant
 minds and deserves more detailed discussion.

  Subsequent to the closing of the bar, those resident in Cambridge went their 
 mysterious ways. Helen, Tim, Bryan, the ergonomist and myself made our way
 by virtue of a pleasant walk, a long queue, and two taxis, eventually 
 to Duxford, where further alcohol was made available by yhn in his function 
 as host. During this process, a bedroll was used as repository of address 
 information for those in the taxi that doidn't know where they were going, 
 and hence I wish to formally apply for an amendment to the afp charter such
 that bedrolls can technically be considered carrier bags. Further conversation
 took place, encompassing some of Bryan's army stories, something about 
 reversing at 80 mph in Cyprus airport among others. My own endurance crumpled
 at approximately 2:30 am, my guests remained deep in discourse after I 
 retired. The avowed intention of the dusky one and companion to reclaim their
 car by 7:30 this morning was rendered somewhat void by our general surfacing 
 at nigh-on 11, aided and abetted by some damn fine coffee. My guests have 
 since embarked on their return journeys, and I for one had a great time, was 
 very happy to host such gracious and civilised guests and am looking forward 
 muchly to FP next week.


[1] The phrase "Would you like something soft to lie on ?" springs inevitably
    to mind.
[2] To clarify: corrections to the report. Not corrections of the variety 
    advertised in phone-sex spams. Only a few of them are gratefully accepted.
[3] With whom, it is alleged, death itself may die.
[4] Two separate techniques.
[5] Who seemed quite pleased that I could recall his profession, so I didn't 
    have the heart to mention that his surname had quite fled my mind..
 "Catch my drift?" as India said to Asia.

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