The Independent Press day was absolutley great, but I knew it would be.
Although I have little interest in pursuing my severely limited writing skills after university, I thought it would be foolish to see this as a justification for missing such a great oppurtunity.
I went to a talk by Leicester Writers Club at 11am which was quite insightful. They spoke of their various experiences of success in publishing, which made me wish I had heard the talk before I handed an essay on the literary market in earlier this year. I met one of the writers afterwards, and was delighted to discover that we shared the same passion for keeping our family history alive.
Afterwards i did a bit of stallholding and felt very important and very out of my depth in equal measures. People kept asking important questions, to which i had to basically reply in better words, "i am not a useful or important human being, the people who can answer your questions will be back around 2pm."
At 1pm Some of our class read out their work. I was pleased to find that everyone kept to their 3 minute slots, rather than having to tolerate anyone who struggles to understand how GMT does not slow down for their own REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT reading. Saying that, Nath was perhaps a little bit over but began with a warning and an apology, neither of which were needed considering he stole the show and was definitley the best person to end with. I read one poem and said something about yoda. I didnt mean to say anything about yoda.
The readings by Crystal Clear at 3pm were all excellent too. I met a charming woman afterwards who told me she gets as nervous as I do about reading aloud, which was reassuring considering how confident she looked and the warm feedback she got from the audience. My favourite piece was the poem about the merman by Maria.
I then had a little bit of time to look around the stalls and FINALLY got my hands on not one but two copies of coffee house magazine, which I have had my eye on for a while. I would also like to take this moment to say that I wish I lived in Deborah Tyler-Bennett's wardrobe.
I met all manners of weird and wonderful people picking up pens, sweets and contact cards along the way. There were consideringly less waistcoats and bumbags than I first anticipated (I am not slating either item of course, as a child I was a keen waitcoat wearer and nothing makes sense at an all-day event like a bumbag.) and it was nice to be part of something which had such an electric atmosphere.
I was also allowed the rare chance to see chris partaking in manual labour while we helped with the relocation of over 4,000 tables... sweaty and hilarious all at once.