Sinister: on a Haydn to nothing

[Liz Daplyn]

Oh heck, what did I want to say?  It'll come back, probably just after my 
credit's run out.

  Anyway, the following came to mind when, after purchasing my very own copy 
of Laura Cantrell's beautiful beautiful album 'Not the Tremblin' Kind' (ooh! 
  Country Nouvelle!) for a criminal #3.99 in the nasty little Impulse shop 
at Luton airport, I was listening to it on a poxy EasyJet flight (my own row 
of seats at the back) to Paris a couple of weeks ago, gasping at the lurid 
orange glow reflected in the windows off the 'plane's cutprice wings and 
eyes watering from the recycled air.  I think it's kind of relevant given 
the degree of peripateticism indulged in by spinisters.  Shifty folk given 
to continent-hopping we certainly are.

  I think air travel encourages emotional openness.  Maybe it's simply the 
stress of airports etc coupled with tiredness and uncomfortable surroundings 
(explaining the cushioned smugness of Business Classers),but possibly the 
act of rising at inhuman velocities through changing atmospheric pressures 
and conditions results in a slightly altered chemical balance in the body.  
Clouds seen from above are quite as trite as when planted firmly on solid 
ground, even or particularly when bathed in smoggy sunset, but there is an 
ineffable difference in the experience.  It broadens the mind, they say.

  Love,
    Liz :x



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