Ah, there you are. You might have been wondering where I was, of course,since I was absent without leave yesterday, well, I shall tell you.
I was in London. Actually, I was in a large hall in Camden. This time I wasn't taking all my clothes off to a dubious cover version of Kylie Minogue... oh. You didn't know about that? Well, I think it's a story for another time, actually, although I have to say that I am still finding sequins, and I can't look a tangerine in the face without coming over all peculiar. No. I was at Uncon, which is the Convention for those of us fortunate enough to read the Fortean Times.
Reader, I patted him. I tried to find a picture to show you, but this is the best I could locate.
I also heard about talking dogs, mummies (the shuffling, bandaged kind, not the procreative female kind, although both descriptions fit my own mother fairly well. She has a great range of curses as well, you should hear her if she runs out of flagolet beans...), mongooses on the Isle of Man, Sasquatches... and I met a great hero of mine, Jon Downes, who signed a book for me and made my weekend complete.
Right, I'd better go - I've been seized with the urge to go to Sainsbury's, for some reason....
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