If it's Easter, this must be Odyssey

Yesterday I played shop, with real money. So far today I have butchered a leg of lamb and opened a bottle of wine, and it's only 8am.

I must be at an SF convention, then...

(Eastercon! But it's at Heathrow, so we are repeating what we did two years ago, having a houseparty at Juliet McKenna's place in Oxfordshire and driving in. Kari Sperring and Jaine Fenn and I have been spelling Liz Williams on her dealer's stall, on account of she is also Guest of Honour and should be allowed time to drink be guestly and honourable. And given that we have to come home nightly, and that there are folk at home who need feeding, it only makes sense to set dinner up before we leave in the morning...

(It's odd, though, playing dealer. Like watching the con through a window: that lovely sense of detachment that echoes my own process of authorship [he said, deleting a far more general comment about all authors]. It would be far, far too easy to make a habit of it...)