As this morning has been a bumper one for good Sinister posts, here's my twopennorth (sure there's meant to be an apostrophe in there somewhere, God knows where...but anyway) I went to inspect a prospective builder's previous work last night (oh the glamour!) and then went to The Pub afterwards to talk about it and put as much Motown as possible on the jukebox. What a jukebox! It had Dusty's greatest, Sally Cinnamon, Van Morrison, loads of Motown, and the song by the Rolling Stones that contains the line, "Ian Watson, you're to blame". I drank too much and laughed too much. "Why are you laughing so much?" asked Mike. "Because you're being funny," I replied. He was. He was telling me about a radio station in London run by the London Musicians Collective or somesuch. Think its called resonance.fm. Mike is a free jazz avant guard saxophonist and the station has loads of bizarre shows that feature stuff like that. My favourite is called Taking A Life For A Walk. Over a half hour show, a woman straps a mic to her forehead then takes her baby for a walk in its stroller. While playing the saxophone. I am not making this up. They closed the curtains in the pub. I like it when that happens. Good thick curtains, drawn with a purpose. There was only about six people in there. Me and Mike. Two guys on the table next to us. A couple at the bar. But rather than chuck everyone out come chucking out time, the guy just drew the curtains. Like it was a point of principle. I got home, drank wine, because, you know, the damage had been done anyway, watched TV (no idea what), and stumbled into bed, trying not to wake Her Indoors (or Her Inbed). And I woke up this morning - der-ner-ner-ner - to sounds of someone opening the front door to our flat and then...well, I wasn't sure what. My girlfriend had already gone to work, so it wasn't her. I could be dreaming (content!!). Or I could be being burgled. It was bizarre. I raised my hungover body out of bed, opened the door to our bedroom expecting to see no one at all...and there he was. A man on his knees, with a screwdriver. "I've come to fix the bottom lock on your door. I did shout out." "Sorry, I didn't hear. I was asleep." "That's alright mate. We all need our sleep." How right he is. I'm going back to bed. x +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+