Time was that I used to have lots of story dreams, some based on real events, some completely fantastical, usually episodic across consecutive nights. Of late though, I’ve been having fewer of these, and when I do, they haven’t been as memorable.

Last night though, I was attending a writer’s conference with all my old university cohort. Jon Scotcher was there and was trying to talk to me about eBooks but could never quite get to talk to me because some really annoying lady (who seemed to know me, but I had never met before) kept on pestering about me about her own experiences of being published.

I went to college in the middle of a Cheshire field, but for some reason the Creative Arts Reunion Writers Conference (I have no idea if that’s what it was called but it describes it quite well) was being held up the Queen Elizabeth Lecture Theatre – a surprisingly auspicious name for a temporarily constructed room erected prior to major campus redevelopment – which post-dated our time at College, and was in fact located in a now demolished building in the old two-story bit of Darcy Building at Oxford Brookes University. It didn’t seem to matter that we were existing in the same time and space as the new pubic plaza at the front of the new entrance…

After the plenary we broke out into discussion groups which seemed to bring in people who worked in the National Trust volunteer office, and I was very excited to see the new working holiday brochures with some of Emma and my wedding photographs from Craflwyn Hall.

We had been booked into one, massive hotel somewhere but we were being switched and I got a taxi with some of my course-mates to the new hotel on Above Bar street in Southampton…

…only at this point did it occur to me that this was some crazy, mixed up writers’ conference. Still, if you’re going to have a crazy, mixed up conference then it might as well be for crazy, mixed up writers.