My Treasures: Last week, I was sitting at my desk, doing some work and listening to The Fox in the Snow. This, in itself, is not a particularly unusual thing, and certainly not post-worthy, by any stretch of even the most fevered imagination. The thing is, though, that my desk is in Australia, where it was mid-afternoon; the song was being played on a radio show hosted by a listee in Colorado, where it was late at night; and the song was requested by another listee phoning in from the UK, where it was very early morning indeed. Even over the crackly, intermittent, low-bandwith audio stream, the song sounded pretty good. Mandee: Im a big fan of your work, and Im at least halfway tempted to give you a call myself, if youre in the habit of granting the musical requests of international callers. Plus, you know, it seems to be the done thing. Ken: What on earth were you doing up at such an ungodly hour? And you sound nothing at all like Mojo Jojo, somewhat disappointingly. Some considerable mention was made on Mandees show about Halloween. Unfortunately, we dont really have Halloween here, being the third world and all. I remember being about 10 years old, and my older cousin suggesting that we go trick or treating, and get some STUFF! It sounded like a great idea. I like stuff. (I like things too, but theyre mostly made up of stuff anyway.) The problem was, though, that we were staying with family, at a little house in a small, sleepy country town, where a lot of the locals were somewhat out of touch. We went to the door of one house, knocked, and a confused, elderly woman answered the door. Being something of a staunch traditionalist, I put the question trick or treat? to her, and she responded with neither, thankyou, and slammed the door in our ham-fistedly made-up and otherwise decorated and/or disfigured faces. To be perfectly honest, we didnt really know what it meant either, although my cousin had attempted to explain it. As we wandered back down the path, to try the next house, the understandably confused woman reappeared at the door, holding something large in her hands, and yelled at us. Memory tells me that the object in her hands was almost certainly a shotgun, and that she pointed it at us in a threatening manner. Memory can be tricky, though, when it comes to warm childhood nights in late spring, spent wandering about strange places. Also, one of the houses was full of partying teenagers who thought it would be funny to give us some booze for a treat; that may have had something to do with it as well. A few people have mentioned Sodastream recently. I had the distinct pleasure of seeing them play live not so long ago; it was a breathtaking experience which may have even prompted a post, if memory serves. They were giving out a three-song sampler of The Hill For Company, which I think I must have very nearly worn out in the time between the gig and the release of the album proper. I bought the album the moment it came out, and thankfully it proved to be every bit as spotless in its full-length form as it was as a sampler. I cant possibly recommend it anything even remotely approaching strong enough terms. It sometimes seems as if there are few advantages to living here, being a music obsessive. I pay through the nose for imports that I have to wait weeks for, and Ill never see most of my favourite bands live. Being able to stroll down to the local, and have a band like this tie my stomach in a knot for a fiver in the back room, though, makes it all seem a bit more balanced, at least for a while. If theyre playing anywhere near you, please go and check them out; youll be gob-smacked, I promise. The newly employed, though consistently inimitable Miss Madeleine of Leicester gave me an honourable mention. Im not quite sure what on earth I could have possibly done to deserve such an accolade, but thanks ever so much all the same, mdear. And, straight back at you, with a side order of congratulations, it should go without saying. Ill also take part of my fifteen minutes to welcome Australian Jen to the fold. I dont know how weve made it this far without you. Kirsten Kenyon said: and then you wake up one morning to find frost on the ground and an angry mob of scary geese hissing at each other and doing their dirty business all over your backyard. If I thought that it was possible to wake up to find such a thing, Id never sleep again. I actually may not be able to anyway, just at the thought of this. Add in a couple of cabbage patch kids, a Madness record and some long thin things that poke in your ear, and youve got my own personal hell, right there. Autumn is my favourite season, but I cant think of anything more terrifying that a mob of enraged, honking, great big crapping geese. Im therefore pleased that its spring here, and that Im in a part of the world with considerably lower levels of geese infestation. Ill leave it at that for today. Im at the end of a five-day bender of what might perhaps be best described as Chu-ian proportions, by the sound of things, and I think that Im probably at the end of my rope as well. Im never drinking again. Hey! No chuckling up the back there! Take nothing but the very best of care, and stay double baked, for extra crunch! Bulk love, -David. _________________________________________________________________ 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. 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