The next day I went back to Glasgow, where I gradually met a lot of people. I bought the ticket from Lyns' friend and gave it to Will, and then we all (Will, Jeremy and Ken, Sarah, Matt, Danny, Lyns and me, in case you're interested) went to -guess what! A pub!! Soon enough there were about 30 sinisterines there; we certainly outnumbered the normal people. And I still wonder what these people thought, when they saw the pub get crowded with odd-looking kids. I am not calling *you* odd -in the two and a half hours I was there, I hugged at least six people, one of which fell asleep on my arms, snogged one, *over* the one that was sleeping, I run around a bit, climbed on the armchairs cause it was the shortest way to get somewhere, ate a lollipop and drunk a tequila slummer -I drunk other things too, but they weren't worth watching. And run around. And probably tickled someone. And that was just me...Later on and after at least five 'get ready we're leaving' false alarms we did leave and get into taxis and got to the QMU. I guess the concert was good -it had been a dream of mine, and I guess the band lived up to that dream. But I'm not sure -cause it was the crowd that didn't, I got pushed about, stepped on and even sworn at. During Alone Again Or, which was my second dream cover, the guy standing next to me was both eating crisps and screaming the lyrics. A girl asked me why I hadn't stayed home since I didn't intend to dance. I can't dance. But I thought Belle and Sebastian fans were supposed to be different. or at least allowed. During the first half of the gig I wanted to run away and cry, and the fact that a dream of mine was coming true there just made it worse. I wished there could be a gig just for Sinister. And that I was right thinking that Sinisterines would never act like this. Sometime during the second part I decided to go upstairs -and dragged Danny with me- which proved to be a good idea. It was less crowded and more quiet, and I stood at the stairs watching them from above as they played Fox In The Snow. I watched some of you too: Will Jeremy and Sarah singing, Ken looking so very happy and talking to a girl -beaming-, Rachel looking excited. I was still sad and worried, in a way I had been feeling so all week, but it was beautiful. Sparkly. After the concert Linda found me. "You're going to Belfast aren't you? Give our tickets to someone". I stared, while thinking of what I could do next. "Do I sell them or just give them?" "Well, if it's a friend you can give them... " So I started jumping about, asking everyone I knew 'do you want to come to Belfast?'. Everyone said no, but it didn't matter much, I was looking for Matt, I had a feeling he would say yes. He was the last one I found, leaning on a railing and smoking. "Matt!! Come to Belfast!! Come with us!!!". "I wish I could, darling" -exhales smoke- "but I don't have a ticket and." I was hoping he'd say that. "Look!! Look what this is!!" -I wave tickets about- "Well... How much would it cost?" -then- "No! Fuck the cost!! How will we get there? Where are can I stay?" A minute later I rushed off shouting "I'll text you the train times" to Matt, "I'll see you on Sunday" to Will and "I'll see you on the 28th" to Danny. Which never really happened. After a while spend upstairs and around -bumping on drunk Sinister people, some of them spying on Belfast Bob, some talking -nonsense- about Stuart Murdoch's hat and architecture, we got thrown out; Ken was the first one -he walked out and wouldn't be let back in-, Rich was the last one. I remember Sweetie shouting "Zozie! This is Stuart Murdoch!"(Don't tell me... You know we do have photos of the band in the third world.) "I'll post to Sinister and say he looks silly!!!". Then shouting "Riiiiichaaard come down you've got guests" then whispering "you can tell when Rich gets drunk, he becomes silly". After all these and a few snogs from Cal, we got in a taxi, got to the centre, got off, and I got told I am Russian; we got chips, then walked the dark streets -uphill, past the Art School, through a park. Rachel and Richard even saw some foxes. I didn't, by the time I understood what they were talking about it was too late. And while walking in the dark I realised that, even though I was drunk and tired and even though I hadn't enjoyed the gig, it all felt right. And that I was smiling. Really smiling, for the first time in a while. Richard's room is lovely. It certainly looks like a scene from a film. Very tidy, a Paul Klee painting on the wall -among other things-, lots of cds and videos and a few books. And a polar bear. And a friend who whistles outside the window! He played us some music, made the aforementioned friend make us tea, and gave me and Rachel his bed and slept on the floor. And woke up four hours later and walked us to the station. The text message to Matt said: 'train leaves 8:00 from Central Station, I'll understand if you change your mind, I'll be glad if you don't'. The reply said 'Belle and Sebastian again? I don't think I have a choice!". So when we got to the station, Matt was already there. So there we are, a few hours later outside the station at Troon, waiting for the bus: me, freezing and wondering what else am I going to do for a band, and why I like travelling, and why I like crazy things; Matt, freezing, smoking, and telling us his body is about to tell him 'you care more about the fucking band than you care about me!'; and Rachel, freezing and getting excited. Maybe in ten years I'll remember this and point at it using it to explain the state each of us will be in. The bus came, we got in. Still cold and sleepy. "Matt, why are we here?" "Cause we're fucking psychopaths!" The next thing I know is Stevie Jackson stepping in, guitar on arm, looking around slightly puzzled, then smiling. Matt reached to take his badge out while me and Rachel giggled, and one of the girls that played the violin came and sat in front of us. We went silent. Then Matt asked: "So, what do you think about football?" . "Ummmm. Not much." "What do you think about baseball then?" I hope we didn't annoy them. Not by talking about baseball, by staring and giggling. We never talked to them. I didn't want them to feel stalked, plus probably I couldn't think of anything to say. I did hope they would say hi -it was quite obvious that we were fans. They never did. I hope they didn 't feel stalked. As Rachel said, 'being in the same ferry with a band is good too'. Feeling seasick and telling stories while watching the heroes of our story doing ordinary things: going to the toilet and sleeping and reading newspapers and looking at photos. I hope we didn't make them feel bad or anything. We were just a bit interested . Arriving in Belfast was cold, very cold. I never really saw Belfast. I remember seeing a rainbow there though. When we got to the B&B we were dying of tiredness, however, we didn't sleep. I lied on a bed as soon as we got in the room; Rachel looked around. I like it here, she said, it's as it's supposed to be. Then she looked out of the window -it looks more like England than it looks like Scotland. Looking out of the window she saw a man knocking the door of the house that was opposite. And a man in the house walking towards the door to answer it. And got excited, and decide to spy on them and tell stories about them. 'When I told you in Barcelona that sleep deprivation has the same effect as alcohol, you didn't believe me!!' I complained. "Oh no I did." she said, and started telling stories about Barcelona too. I giggled. She stopped and said "Maybe I'm shy because I'm crazy -cause most people don't understand me when I talk. And I don't understand most people"; then went on saying things. I giggled more, "I'm quite sure you're mad because you're crazy". And it's one of the best things I've ever heard. But look -even Auntsadie knows. "Sunnyset is out of her tree", she says. Isn't it lovely? Later on, we're walking towards the venue; Rachel wants to find it, I want to go to the Sinister meet-up but don't remember where it is; I am almost complaining. But I discover I am too happy to complain, so I say 'oh let's go. maybe they'll be soundchecking'. Without taking myself too seriously, but you always have to try. We go in, are told to come back at half past eight. but I hear something, I walk towards the stairs to discover it is My Wondering Days Are Over. Nobody's looking, so I go down, turn right, look through the doors... and there they are. Once more. I sit silently in a corner, and nobody tells me to leave. If anyone who could have told me to is reading this, thanks. Standing out in the cold again. Talking nonsense once more. "Matt, wake up", Rachel says, "Where are we? We're in Belfast! Get excited!" . I jump in: "Matt, why are we here?" "Cause we're not old enough to have common sense!" "Will we ever be that old?!! " "Hopefully not!" I sold the second one of Linda's tickets for a smelly 20 pound Irish note. Really smelly. I still owe them a present. Writing all this is quite hard. These things seem to have happened ages ago -I guess that the 21st of December was indeed ages ago; and I'd rather tell you about my afternoon by the sea today. About the sun and the three boys sat around me talking about their future, and how they made me use the word faith all the time. Though only in my head. Anyway -I won't talk about the Belfast gig or about us hanging around afterwards though we were dying of tiredness. I sang a dEUS song, Matt sang a Strokes one, Rachel tried to make us dance, then we realised we were too tired and walked back to the B&B. From that point not many things happened apart from travelling back to Dundee, being tired and cold, and talking nonsense about Stuart's car, dog, cat and rat. And not being able to remember who Mike Love is. And saying goodbye to Matt in the station. And getting back to Dundee and freezing to death. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+