Romance ensues

"You're definitely management material," Lisa said, her tone suggesting this wasn't a good thing at all. By this stage I'm sure she was sick to death of hearing about the mid-year seminar by this stage, but politely listened until the end anyway. The short version is that everything went extremely well and that I'm well cut out for shameless self-promotion and withering flattery of my "underlings". Nevertheless, I was quite happy to spend the weekend doing things as far from work as possible, specifically on a river and with several cheeky monkeys. My brain still feels like an overworked muscle (to say the least); it's obviously not used to hard work.

I spent most of the seminar running around like a headless chook, fulfilling both my MC duties and fretting about whether my workshops were running as planned. "You look a bit nervous, relax!" said a phone message from Len minutes in, as if being judged by 400 pairs of eyes should be a soothing experience. It became clear quite quickly that nothing was going to explode or burst into flame, so I started to relax and get into the swing of things. The morning of the first day went off without a hitch and as I yo-yoed up and down the floors of workshop rooms, people seemed to be enjoying themselves well enough. "Give yourselves a pat on the back," I said to the helpers, earning my accolade(?) as a good manager, "planning is nothing without good presenters, and that's what you are." I'm positive I heard an "aww" coming from somewhere in the back.

The next day, people instantly recognised my "Gryffindor" tie and eventually one girl asked what was going on. "People keep talking about Harry Potter and I'm pretty sure I just saw someone pull a wand out of his bag," she said, looking at me skeptically - my cover was officially blown and I had to reveal that I had dressed up as Harry at an official conference where the emphasis was professionalism. Despite (or perhaps because of) this, people were still smiling even after my 75 minute monstrosity of a speech; I figure this was a testament either to my skills as a speaker or just how bad last year's seminar was in comparison. In the debriefing, someone asked if we had any suggestions to improve for next year, which I half-jokingly said would be a good question to ask in about two weeks after I could face the thought of it. At that stage it was like asking me what kind of sausages I wanted after a hotdog eating competition. We all got dressed up and headed to the movie premiere after everything had been packed away - I was manic for a couple of hours, fueled by adrenaline and homemade butterbeer, before the last two weeks hit me like a train and I (wisely) decided to head home and headbutt my pillow.

Saturday we went out to Arashiyama in Kyoto to see the Autumn leaves, which have exploded into bright reds and yellows across the whole hillside. We definitely weren't alone in making the most of it - the train was packed solid and the one bridge leading across the river to the main area couldn't have fit more bobbing heads if it wanted to. Instead of joining them, we stayed on our side and wandered up and down the banks snapping photos and grazing on stall food. I had a meat onigiri (rice ball), which forgoes the usual nutritious seaweed wrapping for a big piece of pork - I wish more things in life were wrapped in meat. We then made an excellent decision to hire a rowboat and had a very pleasant trip down to the mouth of the river, taking photos and trying not to crash into anyone else doing the same thing; Lisa was pleased with how romantic it was and I was pleased that I was able to secretly race the other boyfriends.

We headed up a winding trail to the top of the hillside to finish off the day, arriving at Arashiyama monkey park and finding ourselves surrounded by jungle friends. They climbed all over the feeding house in the middle, slid down poles and sat on the roof grooming one another. Occasionally a fight would break out and one of the keepers would have to rush over with his broom to break it up. The monkeys were bold as brass - you had to watch your step because they would sit right beside you, absent mindedly chewing peanuts and unwittingly posing for photos. It was a sensory experience, by which I mean very loud and quite stinky; it wasn't long before we decided it was time to bid them farewell and left their shrieking behind. Still, it was a nice trip and we got some good photos of red leaves and red monkey faces.

Fortunately tomorrow is a public holiday, which means I can give myself a bit more of a rest. Despite a quiet Sunday, my eyes still feel like they're going to drop out of my head and roll under the fridge; I'm very glad to be on the home stretch. It seems absurd that it's been almost a year, until I start thinking back to what's filled it. Four weeks left now - I can almost taste the turkey sandwiches, hear the crackers and feel the stupid paper crown on my head. Beneath that will be my brain, with a little "vacant" sign stuck to it; you'll know it by the goofy expression on my face.