writing and hot desking

My life hasn't been all doctors and hospitals this May and June.
Let's deal with writing first: A few months ago I joined a group of writers who meet every second Saturday morning from 9:30 to noon at a local restaurant. We have a leader who has been published multiple times and is able to keep us under control, most of the time. After an introductory "lesson" on some aspect of the writing life, we take turns reading something we have written. We're put on a reading list in advance so we all come prepared with the right number of copies to pass around. We must not go beyond the word maximum, which I confess I'm not quite sure of, but I think it's about 800 words. We read aloud the piece we've prepared while the group follows and makes notes on the distributed copies. After the reading, people offer their comments and suggestions and the reader/writer listens but is not supposed to explain or otherwise interrupt the "feedback" (they don't like the word "critique" because it sounds too much like criticism). When that is all done, the reader list for the next meeting is established and many of us stay for lunch in the restaurant to continue chatting.
The "sessions" consist of about six meetings, I think, and we pay about $18 for the leader's photocopying, plus a couple of dollars for refreshments. The restaurant proprietor, Jon, provides coffee and hot water and drinking water for the $2.50 cash, and the other refreshments (doughnuts or scones, etc.) are included in the prepaid $18.  I've now attended two of these sessions, but have decided to take some time out until maybe September or January.
That's the critique group part of writing.
Then there's the conference part. I've signed up for the Surrey International Writers' Conference which will be held in October 2019. I've got my hotel arranged, plus a few days with friends in Vancouver, but still need to get my flights set up. The whole thing about transportation gives me a bad taste. First off, I'm annoyed that Greyhound has abandoned all of Western Canada, and that was my preferred method of transportation. Second, while I have nothing against flying, I detest airports. I have no other choice. I could rent a car and drive the 500 km each way, but I hate driving even more than I hate airports.
Writing? Oh yeah. There's that, too, isn't there? Ok. Next post.