John Taylor, the very nice organiser bloke, who clearly should be doing far more important things than helping out muppets like me, has sorted me out with a new confirmation email.
Which means, ulp, I'd better turn up.
(Planet-X Kaffenback, Citroen Berlingo, no idea what I'm wearing, though there may be a YACF buff on the go if you want to make sure you avoid me...).
Do I want to check the weather forecast? Or will I just depress myself?