“Well, what else? I mean, you were gone for like 3 hours. You must have something to say.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is proof that while H pretends to think “blogging” is a slightly silly and (for us) a dangerous game, he’s really quite curious. And when I snuck off to CyberMummy for the last of the speakers and a few drinkies, he watched me go with a mix of fear and interest. Okay that is a lie. He was taking a nap. I helped Nanny #2 get the Minis bathed and fed and then walked out the door. But he knew where I was going. And he knew I was going as myself, no wig, no big glasses. And that was risky.
It was actually Fancy Therapist’s idea for me to start this blog: “Stop stop! I can’t take it! You have got to write this shit down! It’s unbelievable. People would eat this up. I mean, seriously, you can’t make crap like this up.”
So I brought it up to H. He said no. No. “Too risky. People find out who we are and it’s a disaster. And your career would be over. No one would listen to anything you have to say. Don’t do it.”
But as usual, Fancy here doesn’t listen. So I created a blog and posted for a week. Then I told H. And he was amused. (Whew!) I’d changed just enough, hidden just enough details to keep The Fancies behind a veil. And if people enjoyed it, and it made me happy, then it was okay.
Then he started getting a little too into it. “Psst, write this down! ‘root rot.’ That’s an awesome blog idea.”
What? Fortunately for you lot, I continue to ignore him.
Anyway, I took a chance this weekend and am so glad I did. No I didn’t wear a nametag and I certainly didn’t advertise my presence. I stalked the edges of the room, searching for the few ladies I was desperate to say hi to, to thank for all the support and love I’ve gotten in this comical world of virtual blogships. No, I didn’t find everyone I was looking for, but I still call it a success.
I’m not sure what Notes thought at first as I walked up to her, grabbed her nametag and pulled her towards me, whispering, “Fancy a drink?” into her ear but the screech and hug was worth the odd approach.
Emma from Mummymummymum had tweeted me her outfit and I stood by the back door, scanning all the outfits, probably looking like a complete fashion snob but actually just waiting for a red shirt and flowery skirt and I found her! Mission accomplished!
Of course, Kate Takes 5 and I had great plans to meet up but I am apparently colour blind. “That shirt is not yellow. That is peach. Or gold. Or something else, but certainly not yellow,” she admonished me, when I finally tracked her down at the Netmums drinkies. Fine. Okay. Got it. Not yellow. But still, how awesome was it to finally talk to her? Not to mention MidThirtiesLife who is actually that pretty. Yes, she is.
Then there are those that I really wanted to see but missed. Gemma tweeted me last night that she was also at All Bar One but couldn’t be bothered to see hi. Apparently the fact that Fancy here is a living, breathing person and not make-believe was too much for her. Seriously bummed here, Gemma.
And Lou. I looked everywhere for a lady with farm boots and a chicken. I asked everyone. I scoured that room, eyes peeled for a stray feather or a bit of mud. Nothing. Next time. I promise.
Afterwards I met H for a bit of dinner. And as he picked through my bag of swag he wanted to hear what happened.
“So you know what? I know you said that I can never actually be friends with any of these women, but I’m not sure you are right. It didn’t seem like a great conspiracy to bring down the Fancies. They were just really curious and happy to see me. And I was thrilled to see them. Yes, I know I have to be careful. But maybe, just maybe?”
He shrugged. "Maybe so."
So thanks to those of you who made such an effort to find me! And to those I didn't get to see, we'll get there. Possibly next year I’ll actually get to hear all of the speakers? That would be nice. A girl can dream, can’t she?