Well, here we are again, you and me, alone, nobody to watch us, nobody to judge us, who knows what might happen? I am back, still alive (barely), and on the internet in a very real and legally binding sense. Got hit by a massive dose of the Space Virus when I got back from America early last week, and it completely knocked me flat on my arse. Must have been a mutated version, as it was particularly nasty. A combination of that, and utter exhaustion, mean I've been out of action since then. Didn't realise quite how run down and overworked I was until my body completely shut down for the week, so I've been enjoying a much needed rest. I've been on the go pretty much non stop for several months, which is no good when you're as lazy as I am. Still slowly recovering, but I'm more or less on the mend.
Had an absolutely *fantastic* time at Gallifrey. Such a surreal, hilarious weekend, met loads of lovely people, and generally had my ego thoroughly massaged. Everyone made me incredibly welcome. I was a bit nervous about what to expect, but there was no need - I'm so grateful that they brought me over, it was an eye opener in many ways. Over a thousand people in the same hotel complex, and they all recognise you because you've been up on stage several times. It's like suddenly becoming incredibly famous - everyone wants to say hello, talk to you, shake your hand, take a photo, get your autograph, smile, tell you how much they like your work, and so on. It's really cool. After the first day, I started becoming familiar with that double take that people do, when they realise who you are - so I got in the habit of nodding, smiling, and saying hello. Of course, some of them were simply random hotel guests who just happened to be glancing my way, and not part of the convention, so they must have wondered who the hell I thought I was. But I didn't want to accidentally ignore someone who was trying to say hello to me, so I erred on the side of caution. And unlike becoming famous, after 3 days, you can switch it off. I can imagine it being a bit strange if you had it every single day of your life, you could become totally vain and mad.
Got to meet and talk to the legend that is The Moff, the mighty Rob Shearman, and the exceedingly lovely, funny and scarily talented Paul Cornell, who must have statues and monuments erected in his honour *immediately*. Of course, if he ever Does Us Wrong, then we'll have to face the sad spectacle of his statues all being pulled down again, but that's a risk I'm prepared to take. All the other guests I met were brilliant too, and loads of fun. I even managed to meet up with Bill Cunningham, the Mad Pulp Bastard, for an all too brief chat, he's a very cool bloke. I'll do a full, day by day report after this post, but be patient, as I've been away from the keyboard for a while, am still really tired, and might be a bit slow. Still recovering from this damned Space Virus too, so I'm trying to take it easy. But I'll break them up into day by day posts, so there won't be long to wait between them. In theory.
Heh. I said "erected".
Speaking of erections, some brief Torchwood news: issue 2 of the new TW magazine is out now, and features an interview with me on page 49, all about my episode and so on. It's good fun, and has lots of pictures of pretty actors, so you can just look at those if you don't want to read yet another interview with me. Funnily enough, the title for my interview is "Slash Fiction". I'm not sure if they realise the double meaning there, but I'd like to think they do...