Shef­field Zine Fest (redux)

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backpack zine distro

(Jen on the Back­pack Zine Distro stall)

I went up to Shef­field for the week­end with Tukru in tow (albeit on separ­ate cheap coaches), to visit Chella and Sarah and run a stall/​workshop at the Shef­field Zine Fest. I had a good time with my friends and meet­ing new people, but I think I’m aller­gic to Shef­field. My face and sinuses swelled up as soon as I got there, and by Sat after­noon my tongue felt so big I could hardly speak (not so great when you’re supposed to be giving a public talk), and I got no sleep Friday because there was so much pres­sure on my sinuses. In a photo of me I looked like the Pills­bury Dough Boy. I took some anti-histam­ines and decon­gest­ants, but it made no differ­ence. My sinuses and face suddenly deflated on the way back around Derby. I’m obvi­ously aller­gic to the North. Or possibly steel. I’ll have to use plastic cutlery forever.

My friend Steve‘s birth­day is 3 days after mine, and while discuss­ing how crap our mid-winter birth­days are, we came to the conclu­sion that capri­corn is a crap starsign, and also what is the point of a mer-goat? Does it slith­er out of the sea to eat your laun­dry and glare at you with its funny eyes, and then slith­er point­lessly back into the sea?

1913 zips

Here is Chella doing her import­ant study of zips and other useful things inven­ted in 1913. Looks like there’s no correl­a­tion. Perhaps it’s a sampling error, or a false negat­ive. Let’s whip out the chi-square tests and the calcu­lat­or and feel very scientif­ic and import­ant in estab­lish­ing the non-signi­fic­ance of the number of zips currently about your person. I’m glad I never have to take anoth­er stat­ist­ics exams. Or at least that is the way the evid­ence is lead­ing. Perhaps the data is wrong and one will be sprung upon me tomor­row. Fear stat­ist­ics exams.


The venue was amaz­ing. It has green carpet like astro­turf and is filled with the greatest hits of mid-century furniture. They have a giant slide, but I put off going on it, and then it was shut and it was too late. Story of my life. Here’s the rest of the pics here.

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