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I agree with sethb in the comments to this entry that one hopes that this incident will be remembered, if it is at all, as a sterling example of how to mend fences in fandom:

Joint release from Octocon and Pádraig Ó Méalóid

To whom it may concern:

Following some mediation and frank communication Octocon and Pádraig have resolved their issues thus: Nichola Hannigan, Co- Chair of Octocon, recognised that the banning of Pádraig may not have been the best way to deal with the situation they faced.

The committee regrets that better wording was not used in the communication of Pádraig's ban and realises that the closing of communication lines was an error.

Pádraig recognised that online and other criticism should be tempered and that his enthusiasm for SF activities may be perceived as aggressive. He is sorry that he upset or hurt anyone, and regrets that he did not communicate his criticisms more appropriately.

Both parties regret that previous private communication opportunities were missed.

Given this understanding between parties, Octocon have rescinded the Ban on Pádraig.

The Octocon committee will continue to welcome criticism in a measured manner and try to deal with it as best they can. They make it their duty to continue to deal promptly with queries which are submitted in the normal way.

The committee are considering setting up an online public forum, which may be a better way for people to raise and discuss queries.

Pádraig understands all con committees are free to run their own convention.
Octocon understand that con members may have expectations.

On behalf of Octocon, Nichola has apologised to Pádraig. Pádraig unreservedly accepted this and has apologised to the committee for his part in these events.

Both parties wish to draw a line under this now. No further discussion online or in person will be entered into in this matter by either party, as both parties want to move on and put this whole matter behind them.

Both parties request that everyone else who was affected by or had interest in this dispute also move on and look forward to positive future events.

Pádraig and The Octocon committee would like to thank James Bacon for his timely intervention and are grateful for his mediation in this matter.

Signed

Nichola Hannigan and the Octocon Committee

Pádraig Ó Méalóid

After the breakneck pace of the last two days, we are relaxing in the hall.

I have photographs, mostly of baby bunnies, glowing baloons and fans in adoration of Howl's moving castle, but I cunningly left the USB cable at home and therefore can't compete for Best Photo, which is a bummer because certainly, certainly I would win.

The con had a YA theme, they tell me, which is why it was held on top of the Watership Down warren. Bunnies of two sizes, medium and extra small, have been hopping about for the last two days followed by one pint-sinzed Italian squeeing and brandishing a camera.

There's also been programming, some of which I actually went to. I did all the serious items like James Bacon channelling Bob Shaw, assorted fans channelling Stephen Fry, Alan Davis and Rory McGrath, and pretty much half the con channelling the whole cast of Harry Potter, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and Roger Daltrey, with Alison Scott winning a turn of Mornington Crescent.

We managed to be the only two people at the con who forgot to buy tickets for the BBQ, and so ate at the local Italian restaurant, where it turned out the only Italian present was me.

Despite serious efforts, we didn't manage to crash any major airliners or set fire to the countryside.

I went to the beading workshop and he stitch and bitch, where Giulia taught me how to do seed bead leaves, and in general had a wonderful time.

I spent all of yesterday walking around London listening to Paul Krugman. Paul Krugman is my hero: there seem to be t-shirts in Times Square with his face and "Krugman's Army" on it - I want one.

What I like about him is that he incredibly clear, speaking with the right mix of seriousness and humour, and very inspiring. In one of my talks he is participating in a round table and my attention drifted while the others where talking, but with him I'm always listening. If I listen to him enough, I might learn something, I guess. Meanwhile, I just have a good time and learn lots of things.

In between bouts of Krugman-fandom, I went to the Jobscentre, where nothing about my JSA was really resolved, went to my counsellor, went to various bead shops and bought way too much semi precious stones, and finally got to curry with major_clanger, purplecthulhu, alexmc and Brother Guy, and it was a very happy time.

[Written at work during downtime, posted not to exceed best buy date]


Right, ok, as many people have noticed, the Radisson is a weird, weird
hotel. It is also a wired, wired hotel, and for this reason I am willing
to forgive, forget and completely obliterate from my memory all the
small little defects, apart possibly from the interdimensional vortex
which opened early on Saturday and devoured the whole second floor for a
while, and anyway, nobody was lost irretrievably in *that* and Ops was
really nice and gave chocolate to all the members who had kept the giant
spiders at bay until the portal could be reopened. Nobody was too
traumatized and I bet we can get a great panel item out of it in the
future, anyway.

My fiendish plan was to arrive early on Friday, but I entered the North
Circular Road and as everybody knows time moves differently there so I
only arrived around three, at which point I was famished and ate an
overpriced and elastic T-Bone in the Brasserie. I will just pause to
point out, as I think I have already pointed out, that the food was not
what you'd call fantastic but was also way, way better than Hinckley.
And anyway notorious food is a feature of Italian conventions as well,
believe it or not, especially in the dessert department. Fandom there -
or at least the fandom that was around at the time - still talks about
the 1997 Courmayeur Fried Tribble, and even those who were not around at
the time have heard about the Stresa Cake, which apparently precipitated
a heart attack in a particulary sensitive member of the con.

One of the endearing features of the Radisson is that you meet people
unexpectedly while looking for other things (typically, a panel room),
which is what happened to me on Friday, a lot. As I later said,
everybody was at this con, and a lot of other people besides. Including
pnh, who caused me to go BEEP BEEP BEEP WRONG CONTINENT ERROR DOES NOT
COMPUTE BEEP BEEP BEEP and to blurt out "What are you doing here? You're
in the wrong continent!" pnh said rather offendedly that he does come to
English con now and then, and that he was here in 1994 or something, for
example. (pnh is one of my favourite panelists, because he does that
thing to look the fellow panelist who has been cheerfully building
complex and unlikely theoretical edifices and goes, "Says who?" or words
to that effect. Panel drops down to earth with a thud. Love it.)

Did I go to any panels on Friday? (Scratches head). Maybe. Who knows? I
know that I was in the real ale bar later on, which, thanks to the
helpful advice of somebody on my flist which I am very indebted to, I
was able to frequent because I had brought a nice warm velvet jacket. I
also know that I spent a lot of money on subscribing to this, that and
the other, buying a whole year of back issue Interzones, making excuses
to the Denver people (I have no money! But the dollar is so low! I don't
even have THAT money!) and then going to the Montreal people to buy a
full attending membership, on the grounds that papersky will kill me ded
ded ded if I don't go.

I had lots of lovely chats with peoplw whose face I still remember but
whose name I don't, then fetched up in one of the bars to find Al and
Jetse and proceeded to rant for about half an hour to Jetse - whom I
only know from having ranted to about how horrid one of the story he
published was and about how horrid he was for not buying my story
instead - about how horrid one of his friends was. This was particularly
wise in view of my stated intention of cracking the Interzone market.
What can I say? Jetse has a regrettable sense of humor (as demonstrated
later on in the Singularity and Sex panel) and chooses some bad fiction,
but I am actually convinced that he will not dismiss a story because the
author ranted at him drunkenly in a con bar. Cos he would be fishing in
a very small pond if he was, true, but also because he strikes me as
that kind of guy.

I met Wendy too, which to be honest I have come to appreciate more and
more over the years, because she is an uncommonly smart sodette and
doesn't put up with a lot of nonsense from me and I don't feel uneasy if
I stic, to her side. But she wasn't staying in the hotel (I actually
took over her room, being marginally richer), so she was only around for
Friday and Saturday, pausing long enough to burst a bubble of mine over
my disagreement with China, of which more later.

The strange thing about conventions is that everybody sees a different
one. There were 1300 people around this time (as much as in some
smallish WorldCons, I believe), and not only all of them saw a different
con, I have people on my flist who read my same books and have my same
interest who saw a completely different con. Most of them for example
went to see Mitch Benn, which I lost simply because I had no clue who he
was and I had to conserve my energies at that point.

Sooo let's see... cdave yesterday at the BSFA told me that he has made a
list of all the events he went to, so that he can flesh it out later. I
am sitting at my work computer (BEFORE my shift starts
thankyouverymuch), so I can't consult the programming, but off the top
of my memory I went...

To China's GoH speech, probably the best programme item of the con
To the Sex and the Singularity panel
To the Opening Ceremony
To the Writing the Near Future panel (a Strossian panel)
To the Fall of Night 451 panel aka the Utopia panel
To the What does an Editor Do panel
To the Right to Reply panel
To the Books on the Web panel



....

At which point I have to break off because I have been called to work, and the rest of the report maybe will come. Maybe.

I am glad I made the effort to go to Recombination today. I had a brilliant time, met some old friends, learned some (for me) important gossip, that made me appreciate a messy situation some of my friends have gotten into with more clarity. Also had a bit of surprising and shocking new about another couple of my friends separating - this always upsets me out of all proportion. But the general tone of the day was wonderful, with good panels, good talk, good beer, and a long walk to the town centre in search of an ATM that was more pleasant than it could have been.

My only regret is that after having gone to those lengths to get the money, I forgot to buy the Foundation fiction anthology. Oh well, there will be other chances I'm sure.

I haven't booked a room yet, and I hear it might be too late already, but just in case - anybody wants to share?

I am culling my books (a surprisingly painless task, maybe because I'm not culling them muchly), and was about to pack several kilos of Locus, when I thought: "Hmmm. Do I really need years and years of old Locuses in my new house?"

So the next question is: is anybody out there interested in old locuses? Several years' worth, with gaps. In pretty good conditions. If it's institutions, academics, etc, I'm willing to pay postage. Packrats would have to pay postage for me.

I really really wanted to go to the Mowbray, but I feel totally crap. I may not make it. Blah.

I came home early, and should really have gone straight to bed, because now I have a ton of things to do and want desperately only to sleep.

Sigh. Wash hair - well, I guess that can wait. Pack suitcase - not really. Sleep - looks increasingly likely that can't be forgone any longer either.

I may have to skip the Tun. I hope not, but, well, sigh.

Tried very hard to find BSFA open meeting. Gone around in circles in downright spooky Belgravia Neighbourhood for about an hour, finally got to the elusive The Star when everybody had left. Feet hurt.

In other news, got Oyster card. Feel dead proud. Real Londoner now, like.

I'm maybe seeing a flat in Willesden tomorrow. What do you think, folks? it's in the sticks, ok, but it's in the sticks withing view of a Jubilee Line station, and the place is really nice and cute.

Well, we'll see. I really really want to settle down.

I had a look at the program. My gosh, it's hopeless. There's five items for any given slot and I'm not even sure I'll be able to stay awake through the day.

Apart from that... what exactly is the difference between "American-style" and "English-style" parties? Quality of beer? Quantity of same? Forlorn bowls of baby carrots and celery sticks or lack thereof? Terry Pratchett? Games of Thing? The fabled orgies I never manage to be in the right room and/or at the right time for?

And, will there be a Strange Horizons tea party? Will they be brave enough to offer tea to the British?

Also, will it be possible to organize a raiding party to procure deep-fried mars bars this time? I don't know about people, but I won't rest easy until I've tried one.

And no thanks - I've done the haggis already.

So this morning I woke up far too early (because yesterday I felt an irresistible urge to have Mexican food and dragged Riccardo out for tacos and sangria. We had too much beer and sangria, although the tacos lacked anything but some pretty good chorizo meat: no peppers, no sauce, no sour cream. Maybe that's tex-mex?) and got to read the latest Infernokrusher production. After chuckling my head off, I thought I'd share the goodies with the Italian fandom. Since (a bit to my surprise) they had seemed really interested and had debated quite seriously the whole Mundane SF affair.

So I posted a link to the InfernoKrusher manifesto, translating the gist of it.

First answer was: "Oh, it doesn't seem all that original to me. The first surrealists were saying much the same things."

Thinking that perhaps I hadn't given enough hints, I pointed out that the Surrealists were missing the GIANT ROBOTS.

Second answer (from a different person): "I find it a bit strange that a "movement" defines itself by these kind of elements... It seems more like a fan club statute than the manifesto for a movement."

Maybe I underestimated the extent of the language barrier. Or maybe Italian fandom has lost its sense of fun.