The Graham Smith Site

The previous day’s drinking makes itself known. Recovering as best I can I decide to finish up the blog from yesterday’s antics. I pay £5 for an hour of the hotel’s wifi only to squander the whole hour writing the post itself. I take a moment to have a little cry. Upon realising I’m close enough to spit on the venue where the day’s workshops are taking place from my room, I do. Then I go and say hi to Andy and steal their wifi instead.

A short consultation with Andy and I’m armed with the knowledge of good places for lunch. And with that, I take to the streets. This conference-turned-festival, after all, isn’t just about the events.

I’m going to go ahead and assume the workshops were awesome. During which time, I roamed the streets aimlessly, camera in hand, until lunchtime reared its empty belly. Tweets were tweeted, hashtags… umm… hashed. One epic burger later I’d made my way to Social 21, where we’d be quizzing like maniacs in the evening. I find several reprobates, also known as my quiz teammates, Cole (@cole007) and Robbie (@rougebert), accompanied by Sam (@sambrown) infesting the joint like a rash. I show them the way to the Duke of York and the switch from lunch to pub crawl is imperceptible.

At this point it’s best I tell you of a certain tradition, or perhaps, epidemic, that permeates conferences like these. Poopin’. Should you find someone’s smartphone laying helplessly on a table, the owner of which is either buying drinks, or actually headed to the toilet, it’s customary to open up their twitter app and post Poopin’. Hilarious, no? Anyway, it turns out that other devices are ripe for a poopin’ situation. Such as my camera. The bastards. Thankfully, the photos remain of a family-friendly nature.

With many of our phones dying, we head back to our respective hotels for a recharge and about an hour later reconvene for Jessica’s talk.

The majority of the conference attendees have turned up. Jessica’s talk is fantastic. An accomplished speaker, she effortlessly weaves tales full of humour and charm around her beautiful designs and hand-crafting lettering.
With the talk wrapped up, many gather round her Drop Cap collection still on display downstairs. As may be apparent by now, this conference is all about the people and the constant mingling.

Then: The quiz. Sweet baby jesus. The Standardistas have crafted questions made of pure torture. iPhones, iPads and Macs littered the tabletops as we battled against a form of psychological torture crafted deep within the pits of Tartarus. That night, we wept. At least there was beer.

I met so many people that night, it was ridiculous. There are no barriers here. Tomorrow, the talks begin. And there we were, 2.30 in the morning, in the Malmaison bar. Still drinking…