So we hit a bar in Rye last night to have a bit of a drink and get down. Here's us around the table.
Not me, obviously. I'm holding the camera.
The taxi driver recommended it to us. We walked in and Brian Glover shouted at us to keep off the moors and stick to the path.
Well, he didn't, really, because he's dead and that would have been creepy. Also awesome.
Seriously, it was quite a nice pub and they were quite friendly.
So we went up and asked, but even trying to be as cheese-friendly as we could, we had about a 30% hit rate. His face fell every time we asked, but he was so happy every time he could help. It was kind of half-DJ, half-Spaniel.
So now it's Day Two of the con (Day Three onsite). Tired, bleary, slightly hungover.
Living the dream, baby. Living the dream.
Eighth post, for those reading the whole thing in order, is here.