Sunday faff

Okey dokey, I have a wee bit of work to do tonight that I'm seriously avoiding. Not because it's too difficult or that it will take too long. I just loathe feeling like I have to do something. It's kind of like a fear of starting. Usually once I start, it isn't actually that bad. To avoid my work I've made numerous phone calls, written a few emails, started writing a blog, done some house work, chomped my way through most of a banana loaf (by the time I've written the full blog there will be no loaf left), watched a bit of tv, pestered my more studious other half with a prolific amount of texts, etc, etc. I figured I'm justified today - I've felt sick all week and woke up this morning feeling like I had a hangover. I was out last night, but I certainly wasn't drinking. You see, I was at the largest lesbot convention this side of the Atlantic, or should I say the Ouse.

*runs downstairs to get the remaining slice of the banana loaf* I felt body parts jiggle then that don't normally. Am I the only gluttonous person who buys a cake -for themselves- and consumes it within, erm, 6 hours, ALL-ON-THEIR-OWN?! The law of diminishing returns just doesn't seem to work with me. Some one please tell me that this is normal!! Now where did I put my elasticated trousers...?

Oh yes, the Lesbot convention. Well, first of all I'd like to begin by saying that as much as I knock things like this, that I deep down secretly love them as well. They have a purpose, they bring together the "community" which I think is always beneficial. I just wished that they played better music and the tickets weren't so expensive! My first experience of the Lesbot festival delights was when I first moved down to York. Two of my rather disillusioned friends travelled all the way down from Edinburgh to attend the festival. With the promise of Lesbot authors, merchandise, workshops and a wee boogy at the end, we were all looking forward to it. We were charged something like £15 to get in for the day (didn't include the boogy tickets). Imagine, if you will, a church sale of work. You know, wooden stalls with lots of random collections of books, cds, calendars and the odd dildo thrown in for good measure. I have to say that your regular church sale of work was -in my eyes- far more appealing. Why? Because they included cake stalls too. There weren't any at the lesbot festival. Oh, and the church fete is free.

Now don't get me wrong, I love Sandy Toksvig as much as the next lesbian. But what is with those random stalls that sell tie-die mohair jumpers and purple hairy hiking socks?!!!! I can't help but feel slightly perturbed and some what alienated at the same time. I think organisers of events like this attract such a broad range of women - which in itself is a huge achievement. But they really should try to broaden their appeal away from the usual stereotypes. I'm not saying that stereotypes are a bad thing, every social group has them, and needs them. But how are you meant to move things forward if you're regressing back to the same old?