Cloud Chamber 3
August 1979

CLOUD CHAMBER / THREE from Dave Langford, 22 Northumberland Avenue, READING, Berks, RG2 7PW, UK.

Cloud Chamber was produced for OMPA in the days when (to use the words of Rob Holdstock) I was even less sensible than I am now. This special Resurrectionist Issue of the thing is for WOOF; also a form of occupational therapy for a fan who feels Seacon looming at him like Ragnarok only more so. It is Tuesday, 21st August. It is 11.40 in the morning and I've just finished typing up certificates for the lucky Hugo losers, counting the advance-mailed site selection ballots and lying on the floor twitching for increasingly lengthy periods. Cartoon by D.West...

D West cartoon

SITE SELECTION: Rather than write a long tedious article for Voice of the Lobster, I'll drop a few short tedious comments here. Statistics fans will be enthralled to learn that we received 582 mail ballots (as of today), of which a mere 59 were invalid through the inability of fans (some of them hugely famous and filthy pros) to enclose money. (I seem to recall a figure of 27% for no-money ballots last year: no doubt Natural Selection is exerting all its awful power, tending to shift worldcons to locations where fans know how to write cheques and disillusioning those who don't.) To deal with this we'll be putting up a list of those who got it wrong, with an invitation to validate the ballot by handing over the trifling £2.50. Future worldcons might care to emphasize this with awful threats: get the ballot wrong and your name will be displayed on the roster of shame, exposed to the scorn and mockery of your foes. Speaking of getting ballots wrong, Don Eastlake had lately been apologizing in all directions for omitting any mention of whom to make cheques out to. This caused virtually no problems in practice: cheques to "39th Worldcon" or "1981 Worldcon" are merely being passed on, while those to "Seacon" get cashed and the money handed over in a lump.

OVERDOSE: I suspect that I'm actually even less sensible than I was then, "then" being quite some time ago. The approach of a convention usually jerks a fanzine from me as a rubber hammer under the knee will jerk forth a jerk: it's a defensive mechanism, I surround myself with fanzines as a squid does with ink and hope to confuse and divert all the people who want to have a sober and serious conversation (of which I can only manage the latter quality at cons). OK: so Twll Ddu 16 was born, the fanzine of which it has been said: "Twith... tool... how do you pronounce the bloody thing,?" The merest child should know, provided they have a copy of TD2, in which I explained: too as in took, ll (hl) as in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, thee as in my country 'tis of. So there's a Seacon issue of Twll-Ddu, and Kev Smith and I got together to do a Drilkjis (serious sf magazine with bookreviews and essaysonsf and other arcane appurtenances of Yog-Sothoth – also a transcript of the talk by me which you will already have missed on the Friday of Seacon); then Kev Smith decided to do a special feminist issue of Britain's Fourth Best Fanzine, Dot. while I remembered the obligation to produce The Northern Guffblower to push GUFF, (Get Up&over Fan Fund: UK/Australia) since that wretch Chris Priest had sent a 3-page article which had to be used or he'd hit me. After doing all these things (Kev owns a share of the Langford duplicator, which is why I print Dot), I was shattered by Peter Roberts's belated announcement that Checkpoint would fold in time for Seacon and be replaced by something called Ansible edited by someone called Langford. I had about one afternoon in which to get out a sample issue for Seacon; it turned out quite entertaining though a mite short of news. Never mind – if DNQ can got away with making up 90% of its news, why shouldn't I? I'm still trying to work out, though, how I ever volunteered to do Ansible in the first place. I remember being inveigled into a grim little restaurant called The Golden Egg in Leeds after Yorcon (it is part of an immense chain of grim little and grim big restaurants all over the country), where Peter Roberts characteristically employed a stick-and-carrot approach to his persuasion by surrounding me with beautiful women and Peter Weston. Obligatory plug follows: send lots of exciting news, a dollar, a pound or a few IRCs and wallow in the sundry delights of Ansible, the newszine which defies convention by not being called Checkpoint.

You've been counting? That's four fanzines of mine (Dot is all Kev's) out for Seacon. I must be a raving loony. Such a raving loony that as soon as a free moment looms I rush to the typewriter and (forgetting all pretence at good writing in the rush to got something on stencil) start a fifth fanzine for bloody WOOF. And I wanted to be a famous professional writer like John Brunner (only taller, and not so well dressed, and I don't fancy a beard like that, and what with one thing and another I'd rather be a different sort of famous writer, thanks).

UK FANDOM STAGNATES: Con sizes, drinking/drugs, elitism, Trekkies, fanzine review philosophy and the fannish vs. nonfannish controversy. There's too much of these subjects in UK fanzines, says Cathy Ball (who also says such nice things about me and my fanzines & book that it's a strain not to agree with everything she says). Well, and serious fanzines are often about sf and nothing else; some US zines appear to deal with feminism, politics, navels, feminism and feminism. Fanzines talk about what people want to talk about, and if people want to say a lot about con sizes, drinking/drugs etc, it's difficult to stop them. Personally I have nothing to say about any of the cited subjects: sighs of relief from fandom at large, and especially from Cathy...

THE MEKON SPEAKS: In Drilkjis 4 we published a few letters/mini-essays from small brother Jon Langford, drummer of the Mekons, who here reports the latest developments as the group Sells Out to Virgin Records...

"I am now a VIRGIN – making plenty records not making plenty money – still who cares – gotta do something t'pass the time guv. We spent the 5 thou in used greenbacks down the boozer last night and we were well into the two thou equipment advance just in carry-out heinekens ... On receipt of the aforementioned moneys we were asked what our plans were. 'What d'you mean, we got the money what else do you want us to do?' (true) exit very worried virgin secretary. Anymore such jolly quips could lead to the permanent loss of ourcollective virginity. Red hot and ready to burn the Meeks hit the studio – Leatherhead for 3 days – with the new, BIG drumkit bought the other day in LONDON. // First single out on OCT 5th – next which will be DAN DARE – out on the somethink of December. Xmas Novelty Hit? As the last dribbles of grey liquid are absorbed into the carpet and the vacuum between my ears demands filling I glance sideways, over my shoulder, down my shirt, through my underpants and out through the hole in my knee at the CLOCK (tik tok) which do say it be pushing 9 o'clock Bernard meantime; c'est le heure de drinky – thus the kid must be off cadging drinks off sympathetic chappies and chappesses at his so called local. .............. love jonnyboy"

Wouldn't mind being down at the pub myself: but must keep in training for con.

ME FOR TAFF: Got a letter from D.West a few days back: "I am provisionally in favour of sending you to America as a TAFF sponsored missionary, but only so long as you don't succumb to the temptations of political expediency and start being nice to Americans, in TD or elsewhere. I know that every man has his price, but it should be a point of honour to stay reasonably expensive. (At least that's what David Pringle ((Seacon Hugo man)) told me when he turned down my offer of 20p for losing all of Geis's votes.) It's only fair to point out that including my name among your supporters will probably lose you several votes. So if you like I'll declare for Jim Barker instead." And what could be more heartfelt than that? Seacon is nearer than when I started. Why did Gil Gaier tickle my stomach when I saw him in the Tun? What are Joyce Scrivner's sinister plans for me? Two days...