Life started at breakfast-time in the Avondale Hotel, when Eric Bentcliffe (the Hair) came down and introduced himself, with Taffy Williams (the Brain) following only inches behind. Eric gave me a copy of the NSFC CHECKLIST to read while he and Taffy snuffled their way through plates of cornflakes. I spent a few minutes looking over the CHECKLIST, an excellent product, and asked him how it was reproduced. He headed me off this question, so I presume that either he knew as little as I about it, or else he had some sinister secret to hide- (Later on I saw WAW clutch a copy of this booklet, examining it with horror-stricken eyes, as if he visualised SLANT toppling from its mighty pinnacle and falling with a loud splash into the Irish Sea.

After breakfast we were Joined by George Ellis, another NSFCer and one of the old guard of fandom, and went out to see if there were any books for sale in London. We travelled by tube, which was quite an experience for such a country bumpkin as yours truly. I had about as much idea as a character in a van Vogt plot. The ticket-machine system had me slightly confused, and I've still got a Russell Square ticket which I never got round to using; this is offered at 50% reduction (plus postage) to any interested takers.

Near Piccadilly Circus is an area which seems to be chock-full of bookshops. New books, second-hand books, millions of 'em -- and a surprising amount of s-f in the window displays. We spent a happy hour there, although most of us got lost and had to be searched for at least once.

Presently, as it was getting near time for the Con to start, Eric and I left the others and worked our way deviously back to the Avondale. Our route was devious mainly because we were gossiping instead of looking where we were going. And a pedestrian who swung his arm in a 90-degree circle and told us "that way" was not particularly helpful either. Eventually we got there, picked up a suitcase full of magazines which Eric was going to sell, and crossed the road to the Convention, in the Royal Hotel. We managed this without getting lost, which was very fortunate because I was carrying Eric's suitcase (why do Ass Editors get all the donkey work?)

CLARKE:

We parted in London that morning; Walt to collect a case at Victoria, myself to invade the 'Royal Hotel'. It was 10.15, but there were 7 or 8 fans there already.

Tony Thorne's display (avc)

Tony Thorne was fixing up an exotic display of drawings and photos of his new club-cum-shop and another gent from the vicinity of Charing Cross Road who's been taking a (commercial) interest in s-f was setting out hundreds of books, and Tony Cooper had racks of carefully displayed 'zines. I hastily inserted a 'Committee' badge in my lapel, but couldn't get any free samples.

The new vendor (eb)

I was introduced then to Dave Wood and Ken Potter, the Boy Wonders of Lancashire, who had a table positively littered with hand-written fanzines. I had a little trouble in distinguishing which fan was which at first, but eventually settled on the mnemonic Kurly Ken and made out OK. Also on hand was John Gutteridge, another young fan but from Southern England.

WILLIS:

The Convention proper was supposed to start at 11am the next morning with "Informal Sessions and General Introductions". I collected my suitcase and a dirty look at Victoria Station and hurried to the Convention Hall to find that this was the Convention Committee's way of saying that us fans could come in the morning if we liked but as far as they were concerned the Convention wouldn't start until the afternoon. I took the opportunity to arrange my exhibit, which consisted mainly of current issues of virtually every worthwhile fanzine in the world including (in no particular order) SFN, SFNL, NEWSCOPE, STRAIGHT UP, QUANDRY, CONFUSION, UTOPIA, RHODOMAGNETIC DIGEST, STOP GAP, OPERATION FANTAST, SPACESHIP, WASTEBASKET, OPUS, JOURNAL OF SF, SHADOWLAND, FANTASIAS, MAD, OoOPSLA, TIMA, PHANTASMAGORIA, SLUDGE, C/SFD, FaANTASY ADVERTISER, SHANGRI LA, THE OUTLANDER, HYPHEN, PEON, STF TRADER, NIRVANA, GHUVNA, ASMODEUS, TNFF, FanANFARE, SOL, EXPLORER, and, just because I thought it was such a credit to fandom, Redd Boggs' beautiful ASF STORY KEY. I had all these bound in a huge folder and it collected quite a lot of attention. Some people were seen to sit down for several hours and read the whole thing, staggering away afterwards with a glazed look. I ought to say that more enquiries were made about THE RAY BRADBURY REVIEW than anything else. I forgot to list it above.

ROBINSON:

After having been kept awake half the night by a nearby clock which chimed on a cracked bell every quarter I arose on Saturday morning full of enthusiasm for the week-end's fanning before me. From my experiences at last year's con I knew just about what the scene would be all morning at the Royal Hotel, in whose ballroom the sessions were being held, Informal Sessions is what the programme described them as. I suppose that is the nearest the English language can get to describing them, after all English was evolved long before fandom came along, hence the incomprehensibility of fanguage to those outside the ranks of actifandom, as a side note it is memorable that Forry Ackerman found even Esperanto inadequate and invented Ackermanese, but I digress.

The con hall (avc)

I loaded up my case with flashbulbs and eventually found my way by mechanical worm to Bloomsbury and The Royal. Externally no-one would imagine there was a stfcon going on, no beanies, zap guns (or water pistols) in fact no fun at all. Even the notice in the window of the entrance hall of the con was only half the size of the one used last year. On entering the semi-gloomy anteroom the first sight to meet my eyes was that of Charlie Duncombe with outstretched hand, strange that, he seemed quite surprised when I shook hands. Well after I'd paid for my two day tickets I walked into the con hall and got that old feeling. Imagine the scene, a large, long ballroom, windows all along one of the long walls, all these consisting of small panes of frosted glass, in the centre of each window being the coat of arms of a city or town in Britain. Facing these windows and the speakers table and mike just in front of them, were row upon row of chairs, tidy now for it was early yet and not many fans had arrived. Behind the chairs and along the panelled wall were pinned up original stf drawings of all sizes and a set of photos taken at an Aussie Con. Several stalls were arranged along this wall; the Fantasy Art Society under the able leadership of Alan Hunter and his charming wife, this was one of the most popular stalls at the con as a tremendous amount of artwork, both pro and fan was on display. A large London bookseller had a large stall with literally scores of titles on show, then came several small stalls. Jim Ratigan had some truly magnificent colour paintings on display, Jim should be working for the promags in my opinion, his work is among the very best.

Jim Ratigan and his paintings

Walt Willis had a huge file book full of current fanzines which numerous young fen were seen to be avidly reading through at various times during the con. I'm surprised that there hasn't been an outbreak of fanzines from the younger fen recently, the amount of soaking-up that was going on. In the corner another large selection of current books and mags was on display under the banner of the Fantasy Book Centre, one of Britain's best known suppliers of this type of fiction. On the two short sides of the room were stalls occupied by the Manchester club busy flogging copies of their fanzine ASTRONEER and the first part of a checklist they have put out, and by Vince Clarke and Ken Bulmer with their newszine SCIENCE FANTASY NEWS. This stall incidentally drew attention from large crowds by being liberally decorated by stills from "The Thing" and other current movies.

Vince Clarke and Ken Bulmer with Science Fantasy News (avc)

One of the largest stalls at the con was occupied by Tony Thorne of Gillingham who is fast shooting up into the position of one of the top actifans in Britain, in fact as will become apparent later, Tony's name will forever be linked with this convention in the annals of fan history. This stall occupied half the wall space plus several tables and consisted of artwork contributed by members of Tony's Medway SF Club, most of whom seem to be budding Rembrandts. Fantasy Fotos, both monochrome and coloured, model space ships combining table lamps, three dimensional pictures of lunascapes, vast numbers of books and mags and Tony himself who ought to be voted Mr. Fan of '52 for the progress he's made during the year. I must not overlook the stall occupied by that mighty atom from Lancaster, Ken Potter. Ken kept plugging his Junior Fanatics and their projected fanzine PERI on numerous occasions throughout the con. A point I noticed was that Ken had arranged his stall in front of a mirror which made it look as if it was twice as big as it really was. Right down the centre of the hall was a glass roof which let plenty of light in (amongst other things). The informal sessions were in reality a sort of milling contest where everybody tried to introduced to everybody else, in fact with so many names coming together it was really confusion.

I got so interested in my repeated circular tour of the hall that I forgot to eat any lunch and accordingly before I realised it the clock crept around to somewhere in the neighbourhood of 2 pm and the start of the con proper.

CLARKE:

I remember sticking up pictures and some SFNs on a wall ... someone had vanished two valves from the amplifying equipment overnight, but our chief projectionist and equipment fan Kerry Gaulder was lucky enough to get replacements at the first place he tried ... before I could turn round a couple of hundred times it was dinner time, and Walt, the Pickles, Paul Enever and self hunted a meal.

WILLIS:

After lunch James was showing me the false beard and dark glasses he had brought for his encounter with Chuck Harris but I hadn't time to slip them on before Ted Carnell spotted me. He took a load off my mind — my last Conreport had been on my conscience a little — by being as friendly and as pleasant as could be and then put another one on by asking me if I'd mind saying a few words about sf activity in Ireland. I couldn't very well refuse but I wished to ghod I could have come to the Convention as an ordinary fan, which is all I want to be and all I would be if I hadn't happened to be born in a separate country and have to make like a delegate. Besides I didn't know what to say. We don't have organizations or publicity drives' or do any of the exciting things that the Manchester group does such as going on conducted tours of gasworks and biscuit factories — all we do is fan. And I can't very well stand up and tell everyone how many pages of / or - we've done or how many articles we've written. Besides, here in Ireland, we belong to American fandom more than English, and there were probably more people there that hadn't heard of me than at the Westercon.

Fred Robinson (avc)

Jim Ratigan, Walt Willis, Ted Carnell (avc)

CLARKE:

There must have been nearly a hundred present when Ted Carnell opened the first formal sessions with introductions. I'd hoped he'd read through the list of members, but instead he cast an eagle eye around the hall and picked various red-faced person from the audience to stand and take a bow.

Curiously enough, the first thing to be discussed was where the next Con. would be held, and after each out-of-town speaker had described his club he'd insert a plug for his particular locality as the site, in most cases. Various accents floated through the PA system as the Bentcliffe-Cohen pair exhorted us to Come to Sunny Manchester, Derek advocated a Con. organised by the People Who Make A Business of It at Harrogate, and the Liverpudlians gracefully admitted that anywhere did them.

DAVE GARDNER:

For Liverpool we had Les Johnson facing the audience, and on behalf of the LaSFaS he informed them that Liverpool certainly had no idea of trying to steal the convention honours from London - that we wouldn't take it over if they paid us. Hold a regional convention by all means but keep the main one down in London in the capable hands of the White Horse Tavern fans who by now are used to this sort of work. London, Les pointed out, is the proper place for fan activities, as he believed when he passed over the control of the BIS to London prior to the war, where it has since flourished and grown.