Coo, aren't fireworks brilliant? I went to the display in the park on Saturday and was late, as usual, and got to the park gates just as the countdown began (as usual), so had to run as fast as I could into the park to get a good vantage point, as usual. It was grand. So noisy that it made my head spin and so beautiful that my eyes all filled with tears and I thought "My life is so so perfect right now". Then I put my arm around the loved one and she told me off and started scanning the crowd for homophobic brats that she teaches at the big school on the hill. After the fireworks I went out drinking with a posse (I've never had a posse before, and they weren't really mine anyway, I just borrowed them off my friend Sexy Susan). The night was tremendous, notable for many things, the best being my "sexycool" dancing with the loved one to Northern Soul, which resulted in us headbutting each other so hard I still have a little sore spot on my forehead. However, on Sunday I had the worst hangover I've had in many many years. After lying in bed for several hours, a castaway on hangover island, I decided to get dressed and go to the loved one's house in seach of sympathy. I stood up (doing well), looked down at myself, realised I couldn't leave the house in the hideous purple nightdress and red trousers that I had slept in and turned to face the wardrobe. I was instantly baffled. I looked at my jeans. "How do they work?" I thought to myself "How do I operate them?" Everything I looked at seems just impossible to operate, all the lifting of one leg into trousers, then the other, the zips and buttons and shiny fasteners. In the end, I settled for jogging trousers, a zip up top, and then, on a whim, a black hat that used to be my grandma's. It was the best I could do. I call it "Confused Tramp Chic" and guarantee it will be in Vogue within the year. Once at the loved one's, I lay down and tugged at her sleeve and whimpered like a sad puppy (also dribbled like a sad puppy too, I fear) until she sent me home. Oddly, it was one of my best days in ages. Self pity is quite marvellous, I think. Yesterday we went to the pub to see the fireworks but we had missed them. I was very disappointed. When I read "7 pm" on the poster advertising the display, I assumed it meant "Arrive at about 7.30 pm, have a drink with your mates, have a little chat, then when you're ready at say.... 9 o'clock? we'll set off the fireworks". Sometimes being laid back is such a disadvantage. I have just read Genevieve's post about her dream. Normally, I find other people's dreams a little difficult to follow and get enthusiasm for, but her's was tremendous. I love the idea of a "bizarre wolly-mammoth-cow-like illegal fighting game" and would happily climb a mountain of ice in shorts to get to see one. I have the date of the new B&S single in my diary (other things to do that day include HAND IN ESSAY in big red urgent writing and GO TO WORK in small black pessimistic writing) and am very much looking forward to it. I think they played the song when I went to see them in Birmingham and I recall being awful impressed, even though I can't remember anything about it at all now. I have decided to stop being so nice about people in my posts as it only makes them vain, like Big Stu Gardiner. Instead I shall end by saying I am indifferent to all of you. Madeleine _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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 +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+