Dear all I was in the supermarket tonight and two girls were arguing over what date it was. One said it was the sixth, pointing a banana, and the other said it was the seventh, waving a mango threateningly. I stepped into the afray with the calming words that it was actually the *eighth*, and the situation was diffused. The mango was disengaged and the banana settled into the hands the other bananas, to dream of Jamaica and the sun. The thought began to go through my head that if I hadn't known the date there could have been an emergency. Mrs Gnobtree's cat might have stopped being fed one day too early, Julie might have missed her driving test, lonely Uncle Harold might never have received his birthday card and decided that life wasn't so lonely under the wheels of the Number Seventy-Nine. It was a good job that I knew. What if everyone forgot? It's a good job there are people like me around, I think. What if no one had know what day it was? The world would have gone to pieces. I met an old friend the other day who is currently doing a Phd in Sand Dynamics. "What's that about, then?" I asked. "Oh, you know, i mix sand together and turn it upside down, that sort of thing. It's great fun, really." I think it's great that my friend thinks so much of sand. Someone needs to know these things. Maybe not every day, but it's nice to know someone, somewhere is concerned about it. We could have done with him around on <REPORTING BACK> Saturday, at ATP, when we were building a runway for our balloon-powered car on the beach. The sand was misbehaving. I tried to use it to model a pair of boobs, with the help of a couple of whelk-shells, but they collapsed, like a couple of overcooked souffles in an ill-fitting bra. Yes, ATP was a lot of fun. I saw YOU, and talked about YOU, but didn't have much to say about YOU, because we all think you smell. Dave Moore hugged a rubber bunny, Ally Cook forced me to snort the Queen's Poo, Ian and I were taunted by an elderly stooping man for buying a kite ("a kite! ha ha!"). He was so gripped by laughter he went out of control and careered into a rack of name-your-own mugs. Someone told me some bands were playing somewhere too, but whenever I looked in on one of the stages they still appeared to be warming up. The sound man spent most of Saturday afternoon trying to find Radio Two. It was good fun, despite things. Hello to everyone I met. Hope Lucy's feeling a bit better. I wonder if Ally saw the sunrise in the end. </REPORTING BACK> Oof! Time for some more toast, I think.. Robin xxx [ by express delivery : http://www.superatomic.co.uk/ ] _________________________________________________________________ Surf together with new Shared Browsing http://join.msn.com/?page=features/browse&pgmarket=en-gb&XAPID=74&DI=1059 +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+