I have gone from being a person who is organising an IVFDF, to a person who has organised an IVFDF. I'm sure in practical terms this is a good thing (I shall rejoice at the absence of sub-committee meetings) but (in combination with a severe cold*) it has left me in a great state of mopeyness.
IVFDF was great, although it's all a bit of a fuzzy blur now. I frantically ran round putting up signs with Joanna, opened sleeping rooms that were filled as rapidly as we'd opened them, had to sign up from the lower school when we filled the upper school car park (a miserable job that was made much more pleasent by Emma coming round with nourishing rum) and was just about on top of everything in time for the 10pm display. That was one of the scariest things I've seen in a long time, masked as grotesque foxes in black cowls, with a great sense of ritual and ceramony, the cold of the night and the heat of the fire, and the feeling of wandering in to some primeval worship of a totam god. Maybe we had. Then I found angoel back in the main ceilidh, which was a very pleasent surprise! The last time I'd spoken to him he'd given me a list of various malfunctioning body parts that probably meant coming to IVFDF was a bad idea, so I hadn't really been expecting him, and as he is the last known resistance against the mobile phone in my close friends I had no idea if he was there or not until he suddenly asked me to dance *grin*. One mad polka with Hugh, and then into the committee room to enjoy the good company of Dave H and Alison until sleep claimed me for its own.
Woke up, had thousands more signs to put up, and was stewarding many workshops at the lower school. Missed much of the scottish conversion wrestling with a large blackboard and a giant yellow sign, but got to enjoy beginners scottish in a rare moment of relatively undisturbed fun. Well, the committee phone rang once or twice, but I did get to dance a fair bit. And every time I ran off angoel found someone pretty to take my place, so didn't seem to be complaining. Stewarding intermediates scottish was a little grimmer, as it seems mean to join in when you really are just going to be a liability, but at least 2 of the punters had turned up at intermediates scottish with even less of a clue than me, so I felt less bad. A little sorry for the woman running the workshop though...
Then had to hang around the lower school waiting until someone deigned to come round and lock up. Went into a severe slump at this point, as although the workshops had finished at 1.30 no one had turned up by 2.15, but Hugh humoured me and allowed me to run back to the upper school to "sort this out". Bumped into Sebby leaving on my way up to upper school, must make sure I get to see him when I'm not running a folk dance festival at some point. Made sure reception knew what was going on, and ducked into the display ceilidh for a bit. arnhem was there, although very coy about actually trying this dancing lark, so I had to dance with L instead (who was very good). Displays were of a very high standard too. Wandered along to the start of the contra, and had great fun whirling arnhem around and watching his expression oscillate between terror, confusion and joy. Then, having had more than my fair share of dancing I ended up doing a stint in the baggage room, a stint on reception to cover the molly set up, and a rather grim hour in the car park. Telling people "no, you can't park on the grass even though other people already have, you have to keep driving and then walk in the freezing cold for 10 minutes to get back here" is always going to Not Be Fun. Got back just in time to catch the Barkshire Bedlems, with their very shiny swords, and then stewarded J24 for the rest of the evening. Despite feeling like death warmed over their playing was enough to get me dancing, which can only be a good sign for the wedding ceilidh. Ran around doing what I was told for a bit, until I was told to sit on the door of Boka Halat, so did that. They're not really my sort of thing, but people seemed to be having a good time.
At this point, the slightly ill became quite clearly Terribly Ill. Whenever I went outside on Sunday I would end up shivering for about 20 minutes afterwards. It was not fun. Luckilly I didn't have too much to do on Sunday - I was on reception for the first part of the morning, and used the time to sort out the t-shirts, in the hope that that way we would only have 100 left over instead of 200. Was helping Joanna with the maypole workshop; my poor maypole at the end was somewhat scuppered by having completely differently coloured ribbons and a rotating top instead of a fixed top, but the people on it were bright and determined and we got most things working in the end. At this point I went to curl up for an hour with hot squash, but perked up enough to make it to the last 20 minutes of the survivors ceilidh. Grabbed Paul for the last mad polka and span and span until it felt like the only thing holding my body together was the music coursing through my veins... and then it was over. Well, bar four hours of clearing up. Luckilly I ended up clearing up the sports hall, and while it is not as much fun as IVFDF messing around with large scaffolding towers is still rather cool. There followed lots of chinese and cake. I don't remember much of this bit, except for making facicious comments about finding nemo. I hope I'll be forgiven for that :-)
Got home to where my poor pooly beloved M had been waiting for me to come home and look after him for days, and collapsed into a shivery incoherant heap who needed to be looked after even more than he did. Must make that up to him :-/
* I can't tell if this is a severe cold I would have suffered from anyway, or a severe cold that only happened because I put myself through the wringer of IVFDF. I really hope it's the former - being ill is bad luck, but making oneself ill is just daft. Still, M had it before IVFDF even happened so I was probably fated to be ill even without the 48 hours of severe sleep deprivation.