My journey to the Gabycon was delayed in starting as it took longer to pack than I'd anticipated. I shoved things in bags for days beforehand, washed clothes, even ironed them, not worn favourite things because I would 'need' them. It seemed getting the kitchen sink in the boot of my car and then sticking a bike rack on the back took longer than....oh yeah, I've done that bit.

Then having got too far on to turn back, I realised I didn't have my sleeping bag for staying at a friend's place after the con. I wondered if I'd have to buy another or if my son could loan me one as I was calling in to see him en route.

Two hours later, I arrived at my son's house and he did have bag I could borrow. Phew! He's not been at all well recently and it was good to see him. We had a little walk and chat and then I set off for the major part of my journey - the trip to Sheffield.

I have an old car, as in fourteen years old and 10,000 miles on the clock for each one of those years. It's a diesel and still drives well so I've kept it. Okay, so it's a turbo diesel and goes like s*** off a shovel, which is why I keep it and we've sort of got old together.

However, neither of us has any sense of direction; so finding the accommodation I'd booked in Sheffield proved to be a challenge. I was up to it and within three days of finding Sheffield I managed to get to my bed & breakfast. (Just as well, the Lion bars were running low).

I'd recently read in the Guardian that Sheffield has more trees per citizen than any other city in Europe, so it must be true. Certainly, I saw loads of them on my circumnavigation around the city and its environs; or should I say, my several circumnavigations, as I began to recognise individual trees I'd seen them so often. I also discovered why they call it a ring road, you can go round in circles for ages.

After doubling my annual contribution to greenhouse gases, I finally recognised something from the seat load of maps I had alongside me. I love maps, I can look at them for hours. However, I can't seem to navigate by them and I'd left my compass at home ( along with the sleeping bag!). Of course something in front of me stopped abruptly and all the papers, maps, atlases, sandwich crumbs and drink went on the floor sliding to the farthest part of the footwell on the passenger side. I had to pull in to gather them and the one I wanted was the only one I couldn't find. I was by this time hot and bothered and close to tears.

Eventually the computer printed map, with all the wrong colours - my printer is playing up, surfaced. It was there all the time it had just gone invisible, like they do when you're looking for them in a hurry. Yes, I was within a short distance of my B&B, with luck I might find it before nightfall tomorrow.

With two maps of the area how could I miss it? I did, it's a special skill I have sort of navigational dyslexia! On the third trawl, I found the road and there on the junction just as it said it would be, I discovered my B&B.

The owner had said it was basic and the price for the night was very reasonable (= cheap), he didn't lie it was basic, as in bring your own towels basic. It did have a kettle in the room and little sachets of coffee and those little pots of milk substitute. Oh there was a bed and it was clean, so it would do for one night. Needing to boost my caffeine and industrial chemical levels I had a cup of coffee, it was okay.

I had a towel with me and a face cloth ( so I hadn't forgotten everything, just my marbles) and freshened up. It had been a very warm day not helped by my embarrassment in getting lost - you'd think I'd be used to it by now. (I passed it on to my daughter, she got lost for half an hour in Ikea, then we couldn't find the car - what talent! Must be sex linked on the X-chromosome).

I watched a bit of telly about King George III and losing the American colonies. It confirmed my own recollections of history, I was good at that, didn't get lost there, in which those nasty Frenchies in blockading the British in preventing relief supplies caused General Cornwallis to surrender to some bloke called Washington.

The whole thing was about taxation and the Yanks have been complaining about it ever since. Then I consider American independence was a good thing, imagine if it had still been a colony they could have had Tony Blair as leader- no that is not a good idea.

Back to the Gabycon - in my several communications with Maddy Bell, we had considered this would be a pre-run to test the water, so its scale would be small. However, I was going whatever and had pepared my story which I had full intention of reading. So I threw on a few smarter and less sweaty clothes, a bit of makeup and was ready to go. My landlord had given me the name of a local taxi firm, so to prevent my navigational dyslexia asserting itself twice in one day, I called a cab. It was on its way, said the girl so I rushed outside to wait. In my haste I forgot my camera and my purse, thankfully my head and shoes were more firmly attached.

Could it be considered irony, that my cab had difficulty finding me? I was walking up and down outside the guesthouse carrying a bright red blazer and wearing my Laura Ashley poppy skirt. He did eventually find me and knew the pub in question, The Norton. Conversation was difficult as I couldn't always decipher his thick Yorkshire accent, which seemed incongruous in someone whose ancestors came from the Indian subcontinent, but we laughed about it on the journey over. Then to my horror, I discovered my lack of purse.

I'd taken my purse out to pay for my room on arrival and had left it on the bed. How I hadn't seen it and why I hadn't noticed the lack of weight - it's quite big and full of coin; still baffles me, but that was what happened. I was just thankful I'd some spare money in the bag itself, so was able to pay my taxi and also my meal.

At the Norton, I spotted Karen and Samantha and we introduced ourselves. A few minutes later Maddy arrived in mufti. We waited to see if any other takers would arrive, but disappointingly there weren't any. Our first pre Gabycon was going to be rather intimate.

The four of us got on well together and after eating in a quieter part of the dining room we chatted and I think it was me who asked when we would read or not. I was easy either way, except I hoped Karen or Maddy had produced something as well.

Another round of drinks and we were off. Big mouth got to read her's first, which I did. It's quite strange that I'd only corrected it a couple of nights before because when I read it, it felt as if I'd never seen it before. Nerves I suppose or my alzheimers is worse than I thought!

Amazingly, they said they enjoyed it ( I know they had to, I was there). More drinks and Maddy revealed she had some stuff to be read but was too modest to read it herself. Guess who got volunteered?

Book five is in preparation and we have seen some of several chapters. I won't disclose what they were about because it'll spoil your enjoyment but I can say that Maddy has lost none of her skill and you will enjoy the continuing gender confusion, travelogues and bike racing that her stories entail.

Suddenly, it was all over and I called a cab and said my goodbyes to Karen and Samantha. Maddy and I arranged our bike ride for the sunday, we were to meet at Creswell Crags at 10.00am, a relatively short trip from Shefield.

Given my detours of the day before, I studied the maps with an intensity, I had half a dozen print outs and atlases etc. Surely, this time I wouldn't get lost. Wanna bet?

The route on paper seemed simple, something I seemed to have in common with it. In practice it wasn't quite so easy, in fact getting lost was easy enough - I'm very well practised in that, and I found the ring road - several times!

How could retracing my route go so wrong? Dunno, but it did and I had to call Maddy on my mobile to explain where I was. I was so lost, she didn't know where I was either. So we kept chatting as I drove and suddenly I recognised a place name that was in the same county, and more importantly in roughly the right direction. So I was a bit late, Maddy forgave me and we set off on bikes for a tour of Gaby land.

We had a super ride and Maddy is less directionally challenged than I am, so we actually went where we were intended to go. She is also good company, and we had some laughs too. I saw Church Warsop, Market Warsop, Cuckney, Worksop, Sherwood Forest and Clumber Park. Maddy also pointed out places where particular incidents had occurred in her stories. It means I now have a feel for the area, so my stories will be more authentic when I site them there. I'm also reconsidering how my current series will develop. Maddy plans hers before she writes, I write mine as I go along following what the characters do in my head, hence my more rambling style.

I was impressed by the lake in Clumber Park though sadly the house is no more. I was also impressed with the lake at Creswell, which is a natural formation compared to the man-made landscape at Clumber.

All too soon we were back at Creswell and after a walk around the lake and the various caves that surround it, it was time for me to head north towards Wakefield and Maddy to return to Sheffield. Of course, I managed to go to the motorway by a more circuitous route than I'd planned but even I can find the M1, eventually. We felt the weekend had been worth it and want to make it more effective next year, so I've already promised a commitment and new story.

On reflection, it's disappointing that more fans didn't make it. I know several would have loved to and couldn't for all sorts of reasons. I hope that next year with more planning and enthusiasm we could have even more fun than I did this year, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. So next year's success or failure will be up to you.