Saturday 9th April

MIKE MOORCOCK:

Lang [Jones] and I spent Good Friday at my place congratulating ourselves that we'd matured sufficiently to summon the strength to break the Easter con-habit. By midnight we were on the milk train to Yarmouth, arriving before 6am to find the hotel closed. So we went and slept on the beach where Lang developed a bad cold which was with him the whole weekend so that he slept away the con on various chairs. Later, he slept on John Brunner's bed while I found myself listening to John congratulate himself on various career moves and diplomatic meetings with publishers. I tried, from a genuine sense of friendship, to point out that he was deluded. Whereupon, he explained rationally exactly where I was wrong. It was my last go at being frank with someone whose interests I genuinely had at heart. I've never known anyone to make so many mistakes and be so pompous about it at the same time. He wasn't nearly as rude as he seemed and could be very kind to young fans. Just a total nerd with a better disguise and education than most of us. Pooter to the life. He never knew who his real friends were.


Harry Nadler, John Brunner, Doreen Parker, Ina Shorrock, Arthur Cruttenden, unknown, Norman Shorrock (pm)

RON BENNETT:

The Saturday morning programme opened at 10.30am with a panel of new authors comprising: Dave Busby, John Campbell, James Colvin, Hank Dempsey, Langdon Jones, Paddy O' Halloran, Terry Pratchett and Keith Woodcott (I'm told that some writers, for instance Harry Harrison, came along under a pseudonym, it's not clear which face fits which tag at the time of writing).


Charlie Winstone, Dick Ellingsworth, Don Geldart, Diane Ellingsworth, (pm)

Guest of Honour, Ron Whiting, gave a short but interesting talk on the trials and tribulations of professional publishing to which the authors in the audience alternately moaned in sympathy or groaned in disbelief, according to the degree of their avarice. The called-for questions proved to be so numerous that the session was continued during the afternoon session.

It was found impractical to hold one of the star items of the programme, the Star Debate, intended for the afternoon and accordingly the presentation of the BSFA's new British Fantasy Award was brought forward to 2pm. John Brunner was the deserving recipient this year, although no specific work of his was cited. The Award, in the form of a shield which migrates with the holding of the Award (the holder retaining a miniature replica) was presented by Ron Whiting who then dealt with the questions left over from the morning session.


Ruth Kyle, Keith Freeman (tj)

John Brunner was then brought back to address the audience and was as interesting and articulate as one has come to expect. His theme concerned the trend for authors to make their readers do comparatively "more of the work" as they read. Because of the increasing use of symbolism in today's writings a real mental effort on the part of the reader is required in order to grasp the communication which the writer is trying to convey. In fact over the entire weekend much stress was laid on the contribution of what has been termed the "writer's writer" to the field.

PETER WESTON:

I enjoyed the convention immensely and felt completely at home, no longer troubled by the insecurities of Peterborough or the tensions of Brumcon. I spent most of my time in the bar, with people like Chris Priest, and Tony Walsh with his pretty (but sharp-tongued) wife Simone. Tony absolutely lived for fandom, and he was going to run the following year's convention. In the meantime, he invited us to come along to his BaD group parties in Bristol. John Brunner was there, and I saw him for the first time, icily aloof in red velvet smoking jacket with his terrifying wife Marjorie, who looked and acted like the Duchess of Windsor.


Moira Read, Mary Reed, Chas Legg, unknown (sn)

BRIAN ALDISS:

We developed a fear of starvation, went into a supermarket or whatever they had posing as supermarkets in Yarmouth in those remote days, and bought up all their meat pies. Twenty-four of them, I believe. Tom Boardman was with us, and Tom agreed to keep them in his room. Harry and I had developed the meat pie idea in Harrogate, after finding that a plate of hunt-the-chicken sandwiches cost twelve bob (60p or £1.80 as it would be nowadays); ours were pork pies and I believe it was a year or two later that Brian Burgess started his own line in pterodactyl pies.


Brian Burgess (dk)

Anyhow, the pies were stashed away in Tom's room and Mike, Harry and I went out for a few drinks. We found a bar full of Mods and Rockers; they were lined up in opposed ranks and about to hit each other with camshafts and things. It was how one passed Easter in those more religious times. We three middle-aged drunks wandered into the middle of things and mucked up their devotions. In with the pints, we ordered three steaks and chips.

They were awful. They were steaks and crisps. The steaks were done to a crisp and the crisps were rare. Also, the ketchup bottle didn't work. It was one of those fake plastic tomatoes and a hard nugget of something like aurocks turd had clogged the spout.

I squeezed, and suddenly it was free. Mike was covered from head to foot with tomato ketchup. With a bit over for the Mods - or it could have been the Rockers.

We staggered out laughing, and crowds more ton-up boys fell away fainting like Victorian heroines at the sight of that ghastly figure, something midway between Jesus Christ and Dr Hyde, swaggering along the front plastered in what appeared to be gore. Mike wore it proudly all convention.

MIKE MOORCOCK:

The terrible ketchup fight in Yarmouth destroyed my new suede jacket (I later had to cook and eat it). As Aldiss, Harrison, Boardman and I staggered back to the hotel people stared at us in horror. "You need help!" someone cried. We shrugged off the insult. Then, seeing ourselves for the first time in the big mirror in the gents, we collapsed in laughter. We looked as if we'd been bloodied in some hideous accident. Just the chaps to put a respectable face on science fiction...! Harry and Tom were somewhat embarrassed and didn't join in with the same - um - relish...


Sign over Ken Slater's book table. Cartoons of Aldiss & Harrison probably by Ken McIntyre (ks)

RON BENNETT:

At 4.15 films were shown, the first being a short documentary, 'The World of Ray Bradbury', showing Bradbury lecturing, gathering material for a book and discussing his work, the interest in which was slightly marred by the over-loud sound track. This was followed by the American feature film version of H.G. Wells' 'The War of the Worlds'.


Auction with Ted Tubb and Dave Barber (pm)

Another auction session closed the afternoon's proceedings, leaving all clear for the evening's Fancy Dress Party. Out of more than a dozen costumed entrants the prize winners were as follows:

Most Beautiful Costume: Ina Shorrock as The Constellation Andromeda

. Most Authentic Costume: Ethel Lindsay as The Princess of Zambia.

Most Original Costume: Charles Partington as The First BSFA Manned Satellite.

The Bob Richardson Memorial Award for the Most Heroic Costume was won by Ted Tubb in villainous space-operatic guise and Susielee Slater won the prize for Best Child's Costume as a Wogglebug from The Lovers.


Susie Slater (ks)

unknowns, Ina Shorrock, unknown, Tony Walsh, Anne Keylock, Gerry Webb (sn)

Newly-weds Harry and Marie (nee Rothwell) Nadler were presented with a bouquet and a pressure-cooker by the entire gathering. We look forward to seeing the pressure cooker featured in a forthcoming Delta film production.

By now all Convention attendees were sympathetically aware that Ken Slater had lost his voice. Welcome, Ken, to a very exclusive club.


Harry Nadler and Peter Day (te)

PETER WESTON:

Ethel Lindsay won a prize in the Fancy Dress for her costume "Princess of Zamba," as did Charles Partington as "First BSFA Manned Satellite," after which some of us stayed up for the rest of the night to see dawn breaking over the North Sea.


Margaret Jones, John Owen, Dave Kyle, Linda & Norman Shorrock, John Roles (ns)

BRIAN ALDISS:

Harrison and Aldiss sobered up with a midnight dip in the North Sea (and if that can't sober you, tell me where you get your liquor from).

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