Sinister: Fishmongers, cheesemongers, gossipmongers

[Alder, Lucy]

Howdy-doody friends.  Monday moring, then, and am I in the mood for doing
any work whatsoever?  Am I heck!  I am extremely excited, however, at the
thought that this time next week I will have a new pooter at work complete
with a screen no thicker than 2 inches and a CD drive so I can listen to
moosik all day long.  Hurrah!  Life can be good now and again.

Another reason why life is good - I have a new mattress - hurrah!  My old
mattress resembled a large fishfinger without the breadcrumbs, fishiness or
fresh-from-the-freezer chill.  In other words, it was a bit narrow.  It also
had these big springy things (that's right, springs) sticking out all over
it - visible to the naked eye and rather painful to the naked thigh.  After
a year and two months in my house, I've finally persuaded the landlord that
I needed a new one and it arrived in all it's glory on Saturday morning.
Unfortunately, the doorbell rang while I was in all my glory under the
shower, so the delivery boy and his little helper, 7 year old Nathan in an
Arsenal (scum) shirt, were treated to the delightful sight of me dripping
wet with last night's mascara running down my cheeks.  And oooh, that
mattress is a lovely thing, firm yet slightly yielding to the touch, with
not a spring in sight.  Unfortunately, it still resembles a large fishfinger
without the breadcrumbs, fishiness or fresh-from-the-freezer chill, but I'm
so well practised in the art of narrow slumber that I could sleep on a
razor-blade and still maintain my balance*

And moving on in a smooth-as-silk link from beddybyes to sweet dreams, I had
my first Sinister Dream last night.  This is what happened:  I was at work,
reading my emails and there was a post from Steve Kado.  And, um, that's it.
Steve, mate, I'm not sure exactly how you wangled your way into my dreams,
but well done!  It's a very difficult thing to do.  Normally, my dreams
involve chocolate, burglers or things sticking into me (presumably linked to
the fact that I've been lying on a fishfinger).

Is the Beck discussion dead and buried?  Oh, well can I add my
ha'pennyworth?  Cheers.  You see, I bought his new album last week and I'm
of the opinion that it's a bit pants.  Having heard all the Prince
comparisons, I'll admit that it does all sound a wee bit purplepaisley, but
more worringly, it seems to have big, hairy Lenny Kravitz footprints all
over it.  And to me, that's not a terribly attractive thing, no, not at all.
And the lyrics make him sound like a two-a-penny cheesemonger.  Well,
anyway, that's what I think.

Finally, HELLO GEORGE DICKIE!  I've missed you.  Will you write more often?
Please?

Eagerly awaiting drunken Matt's appearance in next week's Melody Maker...

Juicy Lucy

*possibly


 
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