Darlings, Shouts out to The Birmingham Massive! Greetings to Carl and grumblings to Naughty Ian (I'm in the Archel crew, I think. A NUN in a CUPBOARD?). The Loved One and I spent a wonderful day in Birmingham yesterday, doing loads of cultural shit (and getting told off for playing with the exhibits. The Loved One *hearts* interactivityness. Or something. Apparently art is not a toy, it's Art). We also sneaked into the Sea Life centre without paying - shushhhh! But £8.50 is a bit steep for gawping at some manta rays and jelly fish - and watched the otters getting fed and listened to squalling children. I wanted one of the disturbed sharks to bite the hand off some small brat who kept putting his hand in the water. Honestly. I ask you. Etc. Vilkas said "Anyone know anything about centimeters?" which is one of the best questions I've ever been asked, cos I know LOADS about them. They're quite small, but not as small as a millimeter (10 of them make one centimeter), so in some ways they're quite big, but not as big as a meter (there's a whole 100 centimeters in one of them!). They're dead useful for knowing how big things are and stuff. Or something. I appear on examination to know less about centimeters than I thought. All this collective list nostalgising is much fun. Stevie's post was simply wonderful, and I fished out a few old ink polaroids of my own. Look! This was taken in February. Paul Field and Stacey and Archel and I are in Brighton, walking from the station to the beach, where a rowdy crowd (and Liz's cakes) await us. My hair is obscuring my face, due to a strong wind, and there are tears in my eyes as I see the sea for the first time in years. Stacey is bouncing a little in her excitement and Paul is staring off into the distance. Here's another one - it's a bit smoky, like, but if you look closely you'll see that I'm in a basement club in London. It's How Does It Feel To Be Loved. Behind me, on the dance floor, shaking their stuff to prime Northern Soul, you can make out Marianna and Greg and Ken and Mr and Mrs Carmile. Sarah GS's elegant foot is poking out from behind a pillar. I'm being hugged by Mark Casarole, and if you look closely, there's a slight blush on my face. Mark will not be reminded of why until lunch the next day. And here's yet one more. The sun is shining, and I'm standing in my back garden, pegging my freshly laundered RED bucket pants on the line, ready for their special trip to London in a week or so. My pants and I will see you there. Regards, Madeleine _________________________________________________________________ Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+