Monday 27th March

At breakfast Monday morning there seemed to be fewer fans and more specimens of mundane humankind. The Cabot room which had served as a display room for books and art was being dismantled, and fans came into breakfast clutching pictures and stacks of fanzines they'd either bought or failed to sell during the Con.

After breakfast I went upstairs and packed and then came back down to the lobby. It was packed with fans and luggage. People were checking out, saying goodbyes, and talking about the next Con. One of the porters was warning the Con's Chief Worrier, "They'll all have to be out of here by twelve o'clock, you know." Whenever the rain stopped a group of fans would make a dash for it.

I was booked on the 2.30 back to London, and with some time to kill figured that I'd make another attempt at seeing the museum and Art Gallery. I succeeded this time, too, but made the near fatal mistake of eating at' the museum dining room.

At the next break in the weather, I made my move. I picked up my green canvas bag, cast a final glance around the Hawthorn Lobby, then pushed out through the glass doors. On the steps outside I paused to say goodbye to Archie Mercer. A group of young fans were standing with their backs to us a few feet away. We shook hands in farewell and they turned to look at us as Archie said, "Thank you, Mervyn. It was good of you to come all the way just to be here."

"It was the least I could do, Archie," I replied.

Merv at the Ashmolean, 1969 (mb)

DAV GARNETT:

Monday morning, only a few shillings left from ten quid. An expensive weekend, but more than worth it, never enjoyed myself so much before. But it's 360 days to the Manchester con. How can I survive that long? What will I do till then?

TREVOR PAYNE:

Both Irene and I are finding it a bit flat and dead after the hectic but thoroughly enjoyable weekend we spent in Bristol. (I have just read that sentence back to myself and if anyone had a funny mind it looks queer on the face of it, but we are brother and sister, and it was all very innocent, at least in my case.)

At my first (but by no means my last) Con, I was so shocked when I looked at the clock on Monday morning and realised that the Con was over. I had only just seemed to have arrived. I cannot think of any occasion in my adult life when I have so enjoyed myself that time really and literally has flown. It has been the most Fantabulous weekend... and that is the only criticism about the Con that you will hear from me.

TONY WALSH:

The Con was big enough anyway to diminish the effort of any minor incidents and minorities. With so many fans in one place there must be exhilaration, etc., and the strongest memory is one of enjoyment. And there's always the next one to look forward to, which will be just as good because it's the same one really, continued in immediate sequence in that time out of time that'll start on Good Friday when my foot on the hotel step triggers open the sphincter....

Postscript

For the first time in many years I missed a BSFA con, and it was very traumatic. My thanks to everyone who signed that fine card sent from Bristol: I only wish I had been there to sign it too. How were the meat pies this year? Is Burgess still charging 4/6 for a pint of milk after midnight? Did Slater ever get his voice back? Was Jim White drinking as heavily as usual? Did anyone buy Aldiss a drink? Do Merill and Disch make a noisy enough American, substitute for Harrison? Will I ever get an answer to these questions?

Some members may not know that I have reluctantly fled your highly taxed shores. After an argosy that resembled one of the Mercer's motorbike tours, including camping the summer on the shore in Italy and a wild ocean voyage on a Greek freighter, we reached New York City. Stayed there just long enough to ruin the kidneys on the overproof American drink (Beefeater Martinis are out this year, Bombay gin martinis are in) then trekked across this gigantic country in the same old green van that con-goers know so well. And an interesting trip it was, though headwinds slowed us so that it took 4 days to cross Texas alone, with the rooting out of SF types along the way. Drank cheerfully with Galouye, Oliver, Farmer, Scithers and such (after having drunk cheerfully in New York with Blish, Knight, Pohl, Ley, Santesson, Campbell, Sheckley, etc.). Looking at this makes me realize that the U.S. is an SF paradise (if you like to drink) which I suppose is a good enough reason for reemigrating to these shores. But there is nothing to read except adverts in the Sunday papers, one can't find draught Guinness (that would slay Ken M.), and the commercials on TV run longer than the programmes.

In any case we made it. We have bought a house just a few miles from Mexico in the southern part of San Diego. Any visiting BSFA members are invited to drop in. (Show your visa and the club secretary will reveal the address.) So it looks like we will be here awhile.

It has been 10 years since I last attended an American convention, and I wonder if they stand up as well as the fine Britsih product? I'll find out. There is a Westercon in Los Angeles in. July, and the worldcon in New York in September. I shall attend them both.

BRYN FORTEY & JON WILLIAMS:

Our decision to enter the fanzine field was a direct result of this year's convention. Before travelling to Bristol last Easter we had both written to a few people, placed a couple of pieces, and hovered on the fringe of fandom. But we could have withdrawn completely with no hardship whatsoever.

Then came the CON!

People who were previously only names became personalities in their own rights. Names now had faces we could put to them. In other words, we found ourselves becoming involved, and, funnily enough, we liked it.

So this is the end result-- RELATIVITY -- after Bristol the only name for a new fanzine. We hope you like it as much as we've enjoyed putting it together.

RELATIVITY #1, July 1967 (cover by Terry Jeeves)

ARCHIE MERCER:

Alan Garner fans will be sorry to hear that Alderley Edge has after all lost the "Thirdmancon". The annual British S.F, convention, organised this time from the Manchester area, is to take place over Easter weekend 1968 at Buxton, Derbyshire, at the St. Ann's Hotel. (Dave Kyle please note.) Buxton is well-known as a spa in the Peak District - both hotel and town are thus considerably bigger than anything Alderley Edge can offer, which appears to be the main reason for the change. And although Derbyshire sounds even less Mancunian than does rural Cheshire, Buxton is in fact hardly any further from Manchester than Alderley Edge is, though considerably handier for those from Yorkshire and the north-east.

Incidentally, the "Thirdmancon" is definitely being held under the auspices of the BSFA - which, one hopes, deals firmly and finally with that particular bit of obscurity. Following on the 1966 AGM of the BSFA, the status of the ensuing (1967) Convention in Bristol never was entirely cleared up. Technically, Bristol was a "sort-of, more-or-less" BSFA Convention: it is to be hoped that nobody in fact noticed any practical difference.