OK. It's official. I've lost the plot. I think it might be something to do with having drained the reserve adrenalin tank and running on pure will alone.
I can't even remember what happened on which day any more. I'll return to what happened yesterday tomorrow. Argh. See? No idea what day it is any more.
1.30 this morning I was still reading through submissions in my room. Stumbled into breakfast at 8.00 and along with my coffee and cereal, by the time I got to sit down I had another 4 pieces to read. In theory, I only had one hour of 1-1s booked today. In practice, I haven't had a moment to pee.
I ran to my room just now after lunch, realising I was late for the author signings. As I grabbed some books I saw a caretakery guy who asked which room I was in.
'Ah,' he said, 'you're the last.'
'Last to hand your key in.'
'Oh! What time should that have been?'
'9.00 this morning ...'
Gasp. Bless him, he said it was fine and not to rush. As if ...
So off I ran - arriving too late for the signings.
Damn and damn again. Apart from anything else it would have been nice to have fewer books to carry home.
Ah well, them's the breaks.
I need to pack now and get ready for the final round up. There's so much more to tell you but it's going to need to unfold over the next few days/weeks.
I hope I've given enough to convey the atmosphere over the weekend.
Eeek- I haven't even told you about last night's Literary Death Match yet ...