Being the gentlemen explorers of all things cardboard it seemed only correct that we should probably pause from our daily routine of lolling around the Who Dares Roll’s lodge in a barely functioning state and venture outside. And when I say go out, I mean do something bordering on actual journalism besides having a fag and partaking in the odious task of removing dog droplets from the garden overseen by her who shall be not named.
So spring has sprung in only the way English springs tend to in that everything is slightly less moist and the sun hangs around a tad longer in the evening like an awkward relative at a family gathering. With spring also comes our favourite time of year Convention Season!
Yes, finally it’s the opportunity for us geeks to congregate in hotels and conference centres around the globe and buy games, play games and talk about games. And this grand tour has to start somewhere and where better than Harrogate and Airecon.
As we’re travelling hundreds of miles from base camp, it seemed like a good opportunity to pause and give some history on our destination like proper journo’s do. So after scanning the Wiki page, I can say Harrogate is most well known for its water, which is wonderful but as we’re an island its sort of like a blind man being known for walking into things.
Aside from that the only other notable thing that’s happened since the 1800’s is the 1982 Eurovision Song Contest was held here in its Conference facilities and the bloody Germans won!
If you really need to know more than I suggest you follow Luke from the Broken Meeples social media accounts, it’s like a real-time travelogue from a malcontent green tea obsessed narcissist. If you’re quick you can start following him just as he reads this blog post. That’s my gift to you (popcorn on standby).
So Airecon now in its fourth iteration has blossomed from a jolly held in a hotel lobby and landed itself at the prestigious Harrogate International Centre. And like that Kevin Costner flick with Darth Vader in it board game aficionados have fluttered to it like a swarm of moths in search of a fresh pair of pants.
This is my first time at this event and so in our time honoured tradition of half arsed coverage I’ll be posting up my thoughts following each day of the event, or as is often the case up until I either succumb to substance abuse or get bored with the whole enterprise and find something distracting whilst digging in a nostril.
As the event hasn’t started yet, these bloody northerners are like the Spanish and don’t get moving until the afternoon we’re left with very little more to discuss at this time. It’s sort of the blog equivalent of being stuck in a lift when someone has farted and trying not to make eye contact smiling politely while your senses are being violated by a stranger’s eggy arse fumes.
Oh and as the title of this post was on the road, then yes I was for six bloody hours and frankly, as my only company was myself I have concluded that I’m a complete arsehole and shouldn’t speak to myself again for a couple of days.