Do pregnant Sausage Dog’s bellies rub on the ground?

I will admit this is a strange way to begin especially when that’s not really what I’d planned on saying but when you’re working at Dunfermline Comic Con and you’re at a time of the day when the mind has had so much stimulation that there are no questions that should go unanswered then it must be answered. And also should something untoward happen that causes my early demise I don’t want my last search in the Google to be “Do pregnant Sausage Dog’s bellies rub on the ground”. I don’t understand why you’re looking at me like that now. It’s a perfectly reasonable question to ask when you see how close their little bellies are….I mean if it was a car then there’s no way it would get over a speed bump.

But I digest…gress…digress. I think. Yes. I’m tired. But it’s the tiredness of being in a state of…um…what’s the opposite of ambivalence? That one if my default feeling but I’m feeling a feeling that feels like pleasantness. I had a pleasantness day. Filled with a sense of joy and wonderment and that’s plenty. I like to think I have a lot of life left in me and I don’t want to use up my quota of feelings all at once. As I most likely said last time and possibly the time before that I am sore and tired. But the sore and tired that comes from accomplishing a day that will be remembered for the ages. Because there are photos and video and I may have forgotten to take some but I did get this one of the Glen Pavillion. Looks nice doesn’t it? It’s nicer inside, that’s where the people were. I was in there. Not at that point for I was outside. Ooooh imagine if I could have been for in there and out there at the same time. Oh gawd no, that’s a bad idea. I’d have spent twice as much.

And spend I did. You cannot come to a place like this and not spend. Whoever said you can’t buy happiness clearly hasn’t seen the Janine Van Moosel Jessica Rabbit prints. They have not purchased themselves a collection of the Art of Ian Kennedy. A man with 70 years experience in the comic industry. Yes, you’re looking at that and thinking “That’s a typo” but nay. Of all the typos that are in here that is not one of them. 70 years. Seven and a zero. Yes person sitting there, you’re right to take a sharp intake of breath. Then you look at his art and think “Does anyone do art like this anymore?”. And the answer is Yes, Ian Kennedy still does it.

Did you know that standing at an open door, in Scotland, in March, in a kilt, can lead to near hypothermia. Well, it doesn’t. But it was chilly. And yet take two steps outside and the sun is warm and lovely. Go back in and the wind is ensuring that you shall never have children. For Scotland does not only have four seasons in one day but at least two of them can exist within the same four feet square. However being on the door does have the rewarding opporchancity to see all the many, many, many people who are many coming through the door. I’m assuming they were all happy. Masks and make-up do hide the features. There was a sense of jauntiness and joy in their walk. A seven-foot tall Iron Man can have joy in their saunter.

I tried walking with some sort of feeling but the cold sapped all feeling in my body, then it gave it back again. I did not enjoy that sensation. However it would not stop me doing it again. Because I bought art. Art nourishes the soul. My soul feels thoroughly nourished. A Torunn Grønbekk print of Rachel from Bladerunner, a Fox vigilante from Sink by John Lees, City of Lost Souls by James McCulloch and Janine Van Moosel.

Oh gawd…ow…ow…ouch…leg cramp..leg cramp…leg cramp. Where the hell did that come from? I’m walking…that’s not helping….walk further….still not good. Wait it’s passing.

Anyway. Where was I? Stuff. That’s it. Art stuff. Like a Neil Slorance Han & Chewie print. Stuff that brings cheeriness. Especially when it’s cheerful looking stuff. Or scary stuff that reminds you that your life isn’t that terrifying. Which it may or may not be. Unfortunately there are those moments. Such as realising I wore odd socks with my kilt. “Don’t all kilt socks look the same?” you ask. Yes, to the untrained ear. But to the ear hearing the body asking why one sock is tighter than the other it is all too obvious. That, however, is nothing compared with a moment after the Con where in the street one of the…shall we say “Local eccentrics” who was telling us how much they enjoyed the Con and everyone who helped. “Especially you Ginger.” Followed by an intoxicating kiss on the cheek. Sorry, that’s wrong, it should have been intoxicated. I’m not ginger, at least not compared to the ginger right next to me. I’m not really sure how I feel about this sort of shenanigans when my arms were overloaded with boxes and my legs are too polite to run away. I have no idea what I did today to deserve it but I’m going to find out what it was so I don’t accidentally do it again.

People come back to the Con. I don’t just mean through the day, back and forth through the door, waving their wristbands so many times that you start to recognise face. Cosplayers in elaborate, memorable costumes still wave their wrist bands, for they are polite that way. Yes, so not just through the day but saying through the years. There were faces that have been here every year. Not just the faces but the heads and body’s too. That’s whole people. Whole people coming, be them guests, vendors or conventioneers….wait…is that the right word? If it’s not then it should be…I’m hitting the google…it is the right word wooo. It is also a song by Barenaked Ladies. The Canadian band I mean, not just bare naked ladies in general. And these individuals tell their friends, who then tell their friends, who then say what’s a con? And then they tell different friends who know what it is and then they all decide to come back.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Still don’t know about the Sausage Dogs though.

Sooo....what are you thinking?

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