Heathrow, 1996

Nana Visitor (Major Kira of Deep Space 9) was a guest at the Warp 2 convention in Cardiff. (David attended the same talk and at the end of it he turned to me and said "I'm in love!" - he meant with Nana Visitor She talked about how the relationship with her then-partner, Alexander Siddig (Dr Bashir) had developed and how surprised she had been.  "Sid? Sid? but Sid's my friend!"  I thought it was a cute story ("Aww, how sweet!).  At the time I had no idea that I was about to have a very similar experience.  

Anyway...

At the end of August, we were at the Radisson Edwardian hotel in Heathrow for the Concorde convention (geddit?) .  I was staying at the hotel, while David had a room in a B & B nearby.  Once in costume, we attracted a lot of attention.  The photos don't do justice to the Vulcan Ambassador's robes - they were made out of lightweight lining material and billowed out in a most satisfactory fashion whenever David walked about - and Romulans aren't all that common at conventions!

Vulcans - and Romulans - don't smile for the camera.

Klingons, however, turn up in droves and a large party in full battle armour were hanging casually around in the foyer when guests arrived to a wedding reception that had been booked for the same day.  Most of them scurried hastily through the foyer trying not to make eye contact with the weird people, except for one small boy who clearly had never seen anything like it and would probably have preferred to join in with the convention-goers.

Klingons on the starboard bow.  And the port bow as well.

The hotel foyer featured a beautiful staircase, and the bride and groom were photographed standing at the foot of it.  What didn't appear in the photos were the half-a dozen or so Klingons, out of shot, hanging over the railings on the landing.  

The foyer of the hotel - without Klingons!

In those days, a Star Trek convention was weekend-long break from reality and party.  For a short time you were in the company of people who completely understood your obsession with a TV programme.  We had to wait for new episodes to be shown on TV or released onto video, which could take years.     It seems strange now, but the opportunity to see new episodes or old favourites was huge!  

Most people didn't have access to the internet, on-line shopping was in its infancy so Star Trek/sci-fi paraphernalia and accessories for cosplay (which wasn't even a word then!) were hard to come by, so we spent quite a bit of time in the Dealers' room.  I bought a badge for David with the word "Imzadi" ("Beloved") carved on it.  Looking at it now, it's a bit naff, but he wore it with a smug smile and kept it in his treasures for the rest of his life.  

And of course, there were the discos - the Star Trekking dance just had to be done, as well as the Dr Who dance and Bohemian Rhapsody... you probably had to be there!  David didn't get much sleep on Saturday night and when I saw him on Sunday morning, reported that they had drunk the hotel bar dry, at which point an enterprising gentleman ( probably a disguised Ferengi!) opened a suitcase to reveal a substantial stock of alcohol miniatures which he proceeded to sell.  David was so tired that afternoon he fell asleep while talking to me. 

That was then...this is now

We were only allowed to invite 20 people to the funeral, courtesy of the Covid-19 pandemic, but so many people tuned up to pay their respects, standing outside the private chapel in small groups - if you've seen Tony Stark's funeral in Avengers Endgame, it reminded me very much of that (and wouldn't he have loved that comparison?) I'd made it very clear that, as David was and I am pagan, I didn't want any sort of Christian content in the memorial.  The officiant picked up on the fact that David had been a member of Boys' Brigade in his youth and, off his own bat,  offered a Christian prayer.  I was horrified and glared at the officiant over the top of my mask, thinking "Bugger, he's going to come back and haunt me over this!"  when from outside, the limousine's horn went off.  David showing his disapproval! 

Oh, and more "lost" items have reappeared in glaringly obvious places.  I'm still waiting for the bottle of Parma Violet gin that disappeared mysteriously one evening (and no, I hadn't drunk it all and then forgotten about it, as David kindly suggested at the time.)  

Update - it turned up after about a year, on the top of the cupboard.  I have no idea how it got there.