Testing
Monday, August 3rd, 2009There’s only one thing worse than covering an exhibition, and that’s working at one.
I’ve just come back from three days at the CLA Game Fair and I’m not in the best of moods. Ten hours on your feet, answering inane questions or trying to convince someone who does dressage or races ferrets that they can’t live without a magazine on antique fishing tackle. Thank goodness I never chose to work in ad sales.
God bless Rob Ganley of Practical Motorhome who lent me the staff bus. Without that, I’d have been camping. Great if you’re 20 and having mud fights at Glastonbury; not so good if you have to look vaguely respectable, showered and shaven.
In previous years, the Classic Angling stand has been a place for social networking. Didn’t sell many subs, but met a lot of old friends and dined healthily on burgers and pork rolls from the concession stands.
Not this year. Riva came along to ensure I chatted less and sold more. I never got near the hog roasts. Every lunchtime, it was greenery of some sort. Not proper bloke food at all.
Overall, the show didn’t seem that good. The CLA’s post-show press release claimed 136,000 came along. Not past my stand, they didn’t.
Friday was slow because the greedy CLA bumped up prices by a fiver. One of my readers put it well. “You’re paying £25 to shop in a field.” And a wet one. Torrential rain and gale-force winds just about rounded off the day.
The only light relief was the evening round of parties: The Field; Hardy’s; the Irish Tourist Board, Trout and Salmon and various others I never reached. The day, viewed through a cocktail and red wine haze, suddenly didn’t seem so bad after all.
Saturday was OK, but Sunday was slow as a snail with a limp. Didn’t sell a single sub. On the other hand, when I totted up the tenners from the books and reels I’d sold, it turned out that I’d made enough to pay for my trip to Texas in a few weeks.
And ploughing through a pile of scribbled notes, I’ve sourced five very promising features for forthcoming issues.
The only bad news: Riva loves the motorhome concept. She thinks we should turn into snails and carry our house with us whenever we go on holiday. So keep those press invites coming in, and save me from a life of salads.