Fairport Convention...

... rocked my socks off.

... forced Deborah to spend Too Much Money.

... sang "Crazy Man Michael" to Dave Clement's delight.

... debuted a song about a Banbury sailor lost on the Franklin "NorthWest Passage" Expedition.

... renewed my desire to have my very own folk rock band (only now I have a willing fiddler!).

... made my muse sit up and jiggle in a very provocative manner.

My creative bank is filling up and I'm feeling *very* happy.

But darned tired. *yawn*

Sleep... I remember that...

Remember it, yes. Get any? Nah.

For the two weeks prior to the filkcon, Tim and I averaged a bedtime of around 1am most nights (or should that be mornings?), which partnered with Tim's 6.45am get-up time, means we're running on empty. Then at the con we stayed up until, er... 3am on Friday, 4.45am on Saturday and 2am on Sunday. We haven't managed to get to bed before 1am again all this week, either.

Our candles are burnt at both ends and the middle is looking a bit hot and droopy, too.

I keep saying to myself, "Tonight we'll have an early night!" and "We'll go to bed at the same time as the children and watch a DVD in bed!". Hahahahahahahahaa (see the "hollow laugh" special effect there?). Still not happening. And tonight is a FFM gig. Yay, because I likes gigs. Bah, because I'm so tired I could just fall asleep on the speaker bins.

I think we may be really boring when Dave Clement gets here and just have a week load of *really* early nights. Boy, do I ever need them...

Utterly impossible.

Trying to sing "Dead Men Walking" in my Essex accent.

Keep crying because I sound like my Mum and my Nan. I don't recognise it when I talk like it (usually when in the company of my family), but trying to *sing* like it? I just sound like all the other women in my family, and that's... emotional.

I wonder how many people will actually recognise an Essex accent these days? So many people seem to think that an Essex accent is that horrible mangled London/Estuary english aberration.

I can't even begin to phonetically spell how the accent sounds, but it is rich and lovely, and makes me think of Brightlingsea, the smell of the Colne Estuary, the wind in the dingy masts and the lighted buoys through the channel home. Don't know if I'll ever be able to do this one as Tim suggested it (in the brogue), but it's an interesting experiment in discovering that the apple doesn't fall awfully far from the tree!