...live in Glasgow. Be warned Apps, Carter and all you other long distance lovers, in the end one of you has to move and it is a right royal pain in the arse. You have to try to get everything you own packed up small enough to fit into a Nissan Sunny, but you procrastinate lots and then you run out of carrier bags and then you realise the car may be the same colour as a tardis, but that's where the similarity ends and you just ain't going to get it all in. So then you chug through the night in all kinds of weather apart from the clement sort and your sister whacks the heating right up and makes you feel right dozy but you have to try your hardest to stay awake because she's doing you a massive favour by driving you up. And then, when you finally get there, you remember that you live on the third floor and there's no lift and you have to get yourself and several hundred bags of stuff up there by hook or by crook (or by driving to Milngavie to collect the boyfriend, who is ). Blimey! But then you sit down and nurse your cup of tea and go all grinny because (a) you're finally there and (b) all your mates came to the pub to give you a jolly good send off. It was kind of like Eastenders, but nobody's car exploded killing an eighties pop star who has BLATANTLY been messing about with Grecian 2000 lately. Ken came all the way from Milton Keynes, though, and Carsmile Steve and Meg came from Oxford and loads and loads of people came from London and I got a dart board and cake and CD as going away pressies and it was luvverly, thank you all very much! So here I am, in a new flat with wooden floorboards, seagrass carpet and lots of Ikea furniture (ooh, get me!) living a mere hour from the boyfriend's doorstep. Blimey! And I am going to see Lloyd Cole at the Grand Ole Opry tomorry nighty. Blimey again. The Pinefox would be proud, I hope. The ticket says NO SUPPORT in big letters, which I presume means that he favours classic boxers over briefs, Calvins or Y-Fronts. Or maybe he is getting older and fatter, but his manbreasts do not yet merit a bra. A long time ago, I travelled to Brighton and went to a picnic, which was one of the bestest ever and I do feel qualified to say this, seeing as I have been going to picnics for nearly three years. Archel, you are a darling and I will make every effort to come to the one in the summer, especially if I get to be voyeuristic and watch Neptune take Mark Casarotto roughly from behind again. May I also apologise to the three skinny indie boys whose bed I hogged that night? Sorry lovelies. Your skinny indie hipbones must have dug painfully into the floor. I feel contrite and will repay you in lollies. Right, the orange notice has just popped up to say my credit is low, so I will be off. Mandee and Eric, I am putting together packages full of stuff and things for you, but what with the move it's been a bit difficult. I am not forgetting you. Juicy Lucy x ===== We're going out! http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/london-indie __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Everything you'll ever need on one web page from News and Sport to Email and Music Charts http://uk.my.yahoo.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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+