Sinister: In the city there's a thousand things

[Madeleine McNeil]

This week marks my return to the real world after a few dreamy Christmas 
weeks of reading trash, eating trash and smoking far too many cigarettes. 
And, Good God, but the real world is a vile place to be. It's all "Do this, 
Madeleine! Wake up, Madeleine! Stop smoking, Madeleine! Not dressed like 
that you don't, Madeleine!" And that's just me shouting at myself. Imagine 
what other people say to me.

We welcome the return of Mark Casarotto, Lord of Smut. He's always nice 
about me. I like that in a man. Or woman.

Rachel Fruitloop said:
Madeleine wrote: "Laura, I hope you realise this means I am forced to
kidnap you, drive you to the Mexican border and marry you. Neither of
us have any choice in the matter, I'm afraid."
Where should we send the wedding pressies!?

Hmm, not sure about the presents. I mean, it's not so much a wedding, more a 
leather-bound night of passion at the Mexican border, but if you'd like to 
send us gifts to celebrate, you're more than welcome. Laura would like a 
puppy, books and chocolate (a puppy? ewwww. twee as fuck). I'd like, you 
know, shiny stuff. Oh, and a hip flask, please.

Belated Reporting Back: I had a very enjoyable time in London this week. 
Present were Sir David of Stankin, Ken, Dimitra, Jeremy, Marianna, Stevie 
Trousers and... erm... me. El vino did flow (Honey and Linda should notice 
this). El bullshit was spoken. I got lost, but happily. London's, like, dead 
big. So big it's almost showing off, I think. Everyone was kind and generous 
and amusing and charming. I got rather drunk, due to my boundless excitement 
every time lasties is called. Something happens to me and I go to the bar 
for a pint and return with a pint and a double Jack Daniels. This reflex is 
completely beyond my control.

Ken, the host with the most, managed to entice not one but TWO girls back to 
his house. In Milton Keynes, no less. Milton Keynes is a town for roundabout 
enthuiasts everywhere. I spent a sickly few hours at MK train station, 
trying hard not to puke and/or run off back to Leicester. Then Ken arrived, 
like a dream, dressed in his business man costume and bought me a sandwich 
and I was ready to face the world again!

I went to the British Library in London and was awed into a very rare 
silence. It was stunning, all gentle, low lights and reverent hush. I saw 
the original manuscripts of Seamus Heaney's poetry and Jane Eyre by a Bronte 
(I always forget which one wrote what) and Ulysses by James Joyce. And the 
library is so HUGE, it took my breath away and made me long for the day that 
I am a real librarian. All the quiet and soft lighting and books books books 
as far as the eye can see. Although that's not very far at the moment, as I 
am beginning to suspect I need specs. I spent much time in London squinting 
at things and looking even more touristy than I normally do.

Thanks to Helen McLean (and Jim) for my Christmas parcel, which arrived this 
morning. It's wonderful! Fluffy dice are now hanging above my head as I 
listen to my mix tape and make rude words with my magnetic letters.

Kyla wrote an interesting post, and others on the same subject have given me 
things to think about. Not reached any conclusions, though. I suppose I 
should have some sort of definitive stance on the subject, given that I've 
had a girlfriend for the past 2 and a half years, but I don't. I don't feel 
comfortable with labels, although sometimes I wander whether this is because 
I don't feel comfortable with what I am being labelled as (with what I am 
being labelled).

Amy's post about her brother was thoughtful and moving. She knows how much I 
liked it.

Ah, God, this is not good today. Apologies all round.

Love
Madeleine
xxxx




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