Dear Sinister I was so cream-crackered on Sunday night that I went to sleep at 8.30pm. Why? Need you ask? My weekend began when I dashed out of the office at one o’clock and bussed into town to try to find something to wear. After three hours, I’d only purchased the Hidden Cameras album, which has its uses, but doesn’t cover much, especially on me. So I wore the same clothes I’ve worn to the Winchester half a dozen times before – white v-neck, cap-sleeved top with navy and red stripes, denim skirt and red mary janes. I did my make-up when I got there because I was in such a rush, then set about icing the 94 fairy cakes I had made for the occasion (94!) Gav had also made a stupendous sponge cake and brought balloons, so at 9pm sharp, we opened the doors and started celebrating. And lots of people came! This is a list of Sinisterines I saw over the weekend, because I can’t remember which bits they came to and which bits they didn’t: HONEY AND LINDA, Ally Cook, Gav and Sarah, Carey Lander, Mark Casarotto, Ailsa Watson (nee Ross), Nick Dastoor, Robin Stout, Elaine, Sally and David Moore, Nal, James Thorniley, Stefano and Sunnyset, Lindsay, the Ginger Fox, the Pinefox, Stevie T, Jim Purple Trousers, Mr & Mrs Carsmile Steve, Ken Chu, Jo and Ian, Michael Grant, Kristin and Mark, LisawhoboughtStruan’scar and friend x, Mistopher Chris and Missipher Julia, Keith, Big Stu, Stacey and Richard, Joss and Dudley of course… um, I think I’ve run out of steam there. The bands were great. Language of Flowers prompted energetic dancing from two young gentlemen and there was a kind of stage diving from the Dudley Corporation (I like to see imaginative use of space). But these bands aren’t *really* what you want to hear about, are they? OK, let’s move on to the picnic and THEN you can have your content. The picnic didn’t happen. I got to Kelvinbridge station at exactly the time God decided to spend a penny all over Glasgow. So we went to the pub, which was quite handy, because the FA Cup Final was on. Meg supported Arsenal, the rest of us didn’t. She won, but we got to laugh at Thierry Henry’s diving skeez. We ate, we drank, we were amazed by a person who looked like a Columbian drug runner and an old man who appeared to be using a giant syringe to inject himself with coca cola, then I had to go home and get the tickets, which I’d forgotten to bring out with me, but it did give me a chance to shower, change and redo my face and hair, avoiding the need to wriggle about in a pokey toilet cubicle. Then I went to the gig. The Delgados were great, Mull Historical Society were ignored in favour of the bar, Karen Dunbar was truly hideous. Then, on comes Stevie, sharp suited and bespectacled, wielding a harmonica. And this is a list of what they played: Fuck This Shit (Struan waits backstage and Makes An Entrance at the end, to cheers, presumably because the SILVER TROUSERS ARE BACK!) Dirty Dream #2 (During which I realise that the boom is going to be swinging over our heads for the entirety of the gig and that this could get a bit annoying) If You Find Yourself Caught In Love Roy Walker (fingerclicks supplied by audience) Seeing Other People Like Dylan In The Movies (featured a more acousticky introduction, which I quite liked) Travellin' Light Step Into My Office, Baby (doesn’t half sound like Good Vibrations) Don't Leave The Light On Baby (Stefano and I clapped in the wrong place – oops) Dog On Wheels The Boy With The Arab Strap I'm A Cuckoo Sleep The Clock Around Encore: Judy And The Dream Of Horses (before which the band spends approximately ten minutes – no exaggeration – trying to remember how to play the darn song in the first place. Tsk.) During two songs, the onstage cameraman managed to walk backwards into a keyboard and accidentally play it with his arse (insert comment about it being a shame we never got to see Isobel play the piano with her arse which, surely, would have been magnificent). Um, what else? Richard still has a beard. I can’t remember anything else. After the gig, I told everyone to go to the Art School, then ended up back at Ally’s flat, for which I apologise. The next day, I saw Mark, Sally and Paul onto their train and then did culcher with Mr & Mrs Moore. We were suitably twee (argh! That word!) and looked at an exhibition of illustrations from Ladybird books. Then we ate Cornish pasties, then I said goodbye, then I went home and fell into bed at 8.30pm. Which brings me full circle. Which means it’s time to stop writing. Bye bye Juicy Lucy ===== The one, the only Glasgow Indie List! http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/glasgow-indie/ ************************************************** The Winchester Club http://www.geocities.com/the_winchester_club __________________________________________________ It's Samaritans' Week. Help Samaritans help others. Call 08709 000032 to give or donate online now at http://www.samaritans.org/support/donations.shtm +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ 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! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+