Dear Sinisters and Sinistrines I pointed the alarm clock just in time to get down to Victorian train station and meet the winner of sinister bowler of the last decade, at least for consistency, Mr. Kenneth P. Chu. He probably did the same, but had realised about one week before myself the fact that clocks has been shifted to the summer time. I did set my watch to the right time, but that one only, and only a few days later. But I did check the forecast and the always says showers as it should be in a real British spring. To cut a long story short, ken was already half way trough his way to the seaside when I dropped into the station and queued in at a personal loan consultancy desk before talking to a rather sweet bloke, wearing a suit which was at least one size bigger and a tie, which definitely didnt matched with the suit, and I honestly doubt could have matched with any other suit really, but who gave me, as a surprise bargain a free return train ticket to Brighton, thing that I found absolutely app! ropriate. So I stepped into the first convoy heading south and, holding my telescope in one hand, a map on the other, pointing at the horizon in the Ahab fashion with a steady look to the Providence. That wasnt before the compass, in very sinister way, decided to invert its polarity, that finally the Express met the Providence, and Capt. Archel and PiKeyChu, took control of the operations. After the bar was in safer hands then mine, I could stop thinking that of many whalers Ive been in my life, and they are not many to be honest, in just a few had the remarkable habit of serving beers, but in a lot less, mariners were travelling around with electric scooters drink vodka shot. But that must have been a practice imported from some sort of Russian icebreaker. Even strangest than that, there were horse running on the main bridge, and jumping here and there, they call it the Grand National, and you are supposed to bet, but frisky whisky, or something similar, the horse I fancied, didnt even show up at the starting line. Then the wise captains led the ship to the pier, trough the thunderstorm, where lovely Rrrrrrrrobyn was waiting, for the reduced sinister massive to berth. The piers, these days, when not affected by arsonists, which by the way, I though was quite a brilliant name for band, offers quite amusing entertainments from the past and the future, including a thing called space hockey. I think was capt. PiKeyChu who suggested to associate each of us with the teams that had reached the F.A. cup semi-finals, and to play a rematch, or a pre-match, or whatever it turned out that MILLWALL won the cup, which made me laugh hurrah for Dell boy! It was just after the final whistle that, gracious Liz & Robster and Ian joined the crew amazed (?) by fellows dancing (?) on something called, I believe, DDR, which I though only was the so called ex-east-Germany acronym, but I later understood was sort of a dancing device. Few more drinks were shed on the docks. Id love to say a few more pints, but apparently in some north-American country there is the very depreciable tradition of serving glass only half full well, might be not half, but a few sips out of it that reminded me of too things in the southern Mediterranean see, but also in the lakes land country of Italy have got the same, totally disputable manner, and that, in the senior common room, where alcoholic scientific official the Queen Mary crew meet, they actually adopted the very cheerful manner of filling to the top glass which are bigger then an actual pint. So it is an extra gain for our, well sweated, pennies, sir. That prompted me to the reflection that, being the typical glass not really cylindrical but rather a truncated cone section, the upper bit, of a larger-then-a-pint pint glass, contains quite a bit of precious drinking material, being the part of the glass with the larger diameter, and taken as difference with the! smaller-then-a-pint glasses, it made the comparison even more even hence, do we possibly drink 3 beers for 2 over there. Big emporiums called supermarkets does the same offer as well, I heard, but nothing better then a pint of Pimms. In a jug. It is quite well known that there are not many chances to play a good cricket game under showery weather and anyway after the tea time, so what better place to retire then the comfort of the pub? Thinks quite a few better opportunities, really, including your captain bring you tequilas and then you can embark in talks about semi-obscure, but definitely lovely, bands and wreckage in the southern seas of love. Then the time came, to head home, but that was not before, trying to convince capt. Pikeychu not to get back to the capital and to share a slice of, very delicious, onion pie, in the rather sinister company of myself, Ian, and capt. Archel, that Mr. (note the gender! Is not a typo for once) Archel prepared with his own hands: blimey! Of course the plan was to get back in the capital, as well but can anyone apart from the EVIL Mr. Chu resist a slice of home baked onion pie ion sinister company well suppose so really not me tho! [End of day one] To be continued, Im gong to be chocked off the office, if I dont do any job during an entire day it wont be the first time though Take care Love, your, rather steady Stefano #~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~# When you sleep do you see an angel in dying light Or can you see someone standing outside trying to set you alight Or maybe you've seen someone somewhere before that I might have loved if i'd never loved you but you only see me in bad dreams +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+