We've gone, we've seen, we've conquered.
We've been promised access all areas and been denied it at the last minute, and we've chatted with Richard Franklin about politics.
We've got bladdered at the bar, met a bird who bedded a popular Doctor Who cast member, as well as met up for the first time in one place with Prof Peach and Charlie Croker.
In fact while Anthony Dry and mine's weekend of booze, Whooze, and taking the wives out for dinner was punctuated by viewings of Return of the Saint and Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.
Yet there's a bad taste left in the mouth. A hint of disappointment, of broken promises, of bad decisions, and a heavy whiff of sloppy organisation and self-serving masturbation when the punters have paid £25 a head.
Cattle markets are for the big events - the previous air of grace and intimacy that made the 2007 cavern event a success has been lost.
You can't use certain loaded statements in emails to individuals and then deny them or ignore them when the time comes. Certainly not when they're going to write about it later.
It's not on - its bad form, bad karma, and bad manners.