I feel I ought to bulk out my character beyond a love of a rare bird. My enthusiasm for them in my debut e-mail stemmed from spotting one that morning in the sky above me. I also look up at the night sky a lot nowadays but that's just to find the seven sisters which is the only constellation I can recognise. I'd like to know more, be able to name a hundred stars like the skipping girl off 'Drowning by numbers', I'd also like to have a basic grasp of Spanish before I leave for Peru and I'd like to be more adept at the sax but like isn't a strong enough inducement whilst I'm in this rut of a gap year. The sax in question is a prissy tenor, its flaw is that it happens to be a Yamaha and has inherited a nasty orange-gold laquer. I consider leaving it out in the rain to tarnish into one of those battered, rusted instruments in the b&w New York jazz photos. I'm second in a local jazz band where the average age is 60 & I've lost my school-girl ability to dive head first into solos with only the vaguest notion of what notes to play. Ten, ten is a much more appropriate number. It can be a late new year's resolution to learn the names of ten stars. Bit more unusual than the 'go to the gym once a week' offerance. My village is half way between Oxford & Reading. It was once a swamp with a monastery and when it rains hard the water pools into the shapes of the lakes and trenches of the trout farm the monks had in the grounds of the nature reserve, this is all from Primary school it's odd the stuff you retain. Agatha Christie is buried in the church yard. Our one claim to fame and not much at that, it'd be something for the grave to be a shrine like Conan Doyle's with lots of die hard fans in Poirot outfits or Miss Marple get-ups holding seminars around it but they all prefer the Orient Express. What else to say.....I have beautiful blood, that's according to the nurse at the donor clinic- it was an aesthetically pleasing shade of crimson leaking into the bag if I do say so myself. It is also O negative which my Mum the doctor treated like a genetic disease pouring over her old medical books as the prospects of multiple grandchildren fell into jeopardy. I wish I'd known this during Biology, could've been my own show & tell in the genetics classes. Quickly onto New Year's, mine was similar to Christina McDermott's only this was vodka trivial pursuit. T'was also short lived as the trivial pursuit in question predated the fall of the Berlin wall and the only correct answer given was "eyebrows!". 2001 ended with a debate on the political layout of the South American continent. Jill found the drunken scrawlings in her diary the next day resembling a cross between Italy and an alien's head drawn by a 2 year-old. Looking back this is not so much a CV as it is the ramblings from an over indulgence in black cherry youghurt. bye now Becky 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+