Sal, Sauvignon, Swansea

She wasn't anyone special. She wasn't that brave, that clever or that strong. She was just somebody that felt cramped by the confines of her life. She was just somebody who had to get out.

I walk to Liberty Stadium, home of Swansea rugby and venue for SwanseaCon. It's further from the town centre than I had expected.

There's an interesting lineup at the conference - with lots of new speakers and a really good gender mix. There are some old favourites as well - Sander, Sal, Kevlin - and, of course, me.

After the conference, there are drinks upstairs, followed by lightning talks at the No Sign Wine Bar on Wind Street. I get a lift partway into town with Sander and Kim, with a lovely sunny walk along the harbour and over Sail bridge.

I was going to go back to my room, but I find myself on Wind Street already, so I decide to eat instead. I go to Turtle Bay, a Caribbean restaurant, and have goat curry. Great sauce, but goat was extremely chewy as I might have expected. Does goat have to be chewy? Surely there must be tender bits, even on a goat!

There are a dozen or so lightning talks. A particularly good one from a man with a GCSE in drama, having a conversation with himself, half dressed as a GP, half as a patient.

The evening ends with Sal doing a short piece about pair programming, PhDs, and autism followed by Kim being press ganged into talking about Learning Organisations.

Leaving the wine bar is a rude awakening. Maybe it's fresher's week, but Wind Street is full of screeching young women (dressed as school girls) and strutting young men. I make it home unscathed and set the alarm for 5:00