Sinister: dry pasta is quick to prepare.

[amazing grace . . . .]

Hey there,
I haven't written in so long that I feel a bit nervous all over again. hmm. 
I guess deep breaths and imagining the people I'm worried by on the toilet 
would be my usual source of advice. Can't remeber where it came from, but I 
guess it always works, just because I have an infantile sense of humour and 
chortle at the word toilet. However, since it's hard to do that by creating 
a mental image by a person's e-mail or from whatever body part they've 
posted on the missprint site, a bashful smile will have to do the trick.

Ash are supposed to be coming to my fair town on thursday. I don't like them 
very much at all, but will trot along for the novelty of it. The novelty 
being that Ilkley is more famed for it's medium sized hill of 'Ilkley Moor 
B'aht at' fame and Richard Whitely living here than for anything else. I had 
my photo taken with him when I was younger. But that was before he had 
achieved true cult status as the jovial mr countdown. Like indie snobs who 
were there at the first gig, with the limited edition first single, I feel I 
can claim 'I was a fan before he sold out, and his earlier work was so much 
less comercialised. Back then he did it for the words, now it's just 
money,money,money.
I think belle and sebastian would do a very good version of 'Ilkley moor 
B'aht 'at'. It has that folky element along with a touch of gritty reality, 
as it delves into life after death, when, indeed, 'worms will come and eat 
thee up'. Moving stuff indeed. Mind you, the rest of the list may be unaware 
of the existence of the song. It's hard to tell whether it's a local song 
for local people or something embraced by a larger audience. If it's a 
nationwide thing I wonder if people realise they're singing about a medium 
sized hill boasting a rock which is supposedly shaped like a cow and a few 
burnt out cars. hmm.
And I was meant to be seeing At The Drive In tonight, but I misjudged ticket 
sales. And they all disappeared. I have the vague feeling I should have 
raised some enthusiasm and should have attempted dodgy dealings with a tout. 
Only I'm not very good at the old haggling-lark. I guess touts would 
probably have a better name for it than the haggling lark. Something more 
gutteral and that conveyed the message that anything under £25 would be a 
ridiculous price for any of their rather splendid tickets. Again, rather 
splendid is arguably not the appropriate vocabulary.
I'll stop there, having only had a little content, but then I like reading 
ramblings a lot, and the band aren't doing much content themselves so maybe 
I'm forgive. Ooh, and the christmas presents idea sounds lovely. i don't 
usually like christmas, apart from the lights, but the gift swapping sounds 
very festive.
cheerio for now,
Grace
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And she spent the rest of the day separating the bits from the marmalade, 
or, if you prefer, the marmalade from the bits.
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