Sinister: Fw: Part 2: When the band finished playing, they howled out for more

[Dimitra]

The next day I went back to Glasgow, where I gradually met a lot of people.
I bought the ticket from Lyns' friend and gave it to Will, and then we all
(Will, Jeremy and Ken, Sarah, Matt, Danny, Lyns and me, in case you're
interested) went to -guess what! A pub!! Soon enough there were about 30
sinisterines there; we certainly outnumbered the normal people. And I still
wonder what these people thought, when they saw the pub get crowded with
odd-looking kids. I am not calling *you* odd -in the two and a half hours I
was there, I hugged at least six people, one of which fell asleep on my
arms, snogged one, *over* the one that was sleeping, I run around a bit,
climbed on the armchairs cause it was the shortest way to get somewhere, ate
a lollipop and drunk a tequila slummer -I drunk other things too, but they
weren't worth watching. And run around. And probably tickled someone. And
that was just me...Later on and after at least five 'get ready we're
leaving' false alarms we did leave and get into taxis and got to the QMU.

I guess the concert was good -it had been a dream of mine, and I guess the
band lived up to that dream. But I'm not sure -cause it was the crowd that
didn't, I got pushed about, stepped on and even sworn at. During Alone Again
Or, which was my second dream cover, the guy standing next to me was both
eating crisps and screaming the lyrics. A girl asked me why I hadn't stayed
home since I didn't intend to dance. I can't dance. But I thought Belle and
Sebastian fans were supposed to be different. or at least allowed. During
the first half of the gig I wanted to run away and cry, and the fact that a
dream of mine was coming true there just made it worse. I wished there could
be a gig just for Sinister. And that I was right thinking that Sinisterines
would never act like this.

Sometime during the second part I decided to go upstairs -and dragged Danny
with me- which proved to be a good idea. It was less crowded and more quiet,
and I stood at the stairs watching them from above as they played Fox In The
Snow. I watched some of you too: Will Jeremy and Sarah singing, Ken looking
so very happy and talking to a girl -beaming-, Rachel looking excited. I was
still sad and worried, in a way I had been feeling so all week, but it was
beautiful. Sparkly.
After the concert Linda found me. "You're going to Belfast aren't you? Give
our tickets to someone". I stared, while thinking of what I could do next.
"Do I sell them or just give them?" "Well, if it's a friend you can give
them... "

So I started jumping about, asking everyone I knew 'do you want to come to
Belfast?'. Everyone said no, but it didn't matter much, I was looking for
Matt, I had a feeling he would say yes. He was the last one I found, leaning
on a railing and smoking. "Matt!! Come to Belfast!! Come with us!!!". "I
wish I could, darling" -exhales smoke- "but I don't have a ticket and." I
was hoping he'd say that. "Look!! Look what this is!!" -I wave tickets
about- "Well... How much would it cost?" -then- "No! Fuck the cost!! How
will we get there? Where are can I stay?"
A minute later I rushed off shouting "I'll text you the train times" to
Matt, "I'll see you on Sunday" to Will and "I'll see you on the 28th" to
Danny. Which never really happened.

After a while spend upstairs and around -bumping on drunk Sinister people,
some of them spying on Belfast Bob, some talking -nonsense- about Stuart
Murdoch's hat and architecture, we got thrown out; Ken was the first one -he
walked out and wouldn't be let back in-, Rich was the last one. I remember
Sweetie shouting "Zozie! This is Stuart Murdoch!"(Don't tell me... You know
we do have photos of the band in the third world.) "I'll post to Sinister
and say he looks silly!!!". Then shouting "Riiiiichaaard come down you've
got guests" then whispering "you can tell when Rich gets drunk, he becomes
silly". After all these and a few snogs from Cal, we got in a taxi, got to
the centre, got off, and I got told I am Russian; we got chips, then walked
the dark streets -uphill, past the Art School, through a park. Rachel and
Richard even saw some foxes. I didn't, by the time I understood what they
were talking about it was too late.

And while walking in the dark I realised that, even though I was drunk and
tired and even though I hadn't enjoyed the gig, it all felt right. And that
I was smiling. Really smiling, for the first time in a while.

Richard's room is lovely. It certainly looks like a scene from a film. Very
tidy, a Paul Klee painting on the wall -among other things-, lots of cds and
videos and a few books. And a polar bear. And a friend who whistles outside
the window! He played us some music, made the aforementioned friend make us
tea, and gave me and Rachel his bed and slept on the floor. And woke up four
hours later and walked us to the station.

The text message to Matt said: 'train leaves 8:00 from Central Station, I'll
understand if you change your mind, I'll be glad if you don't'. The reply
said 'Belle and Sebastian again? I don't think I have a choice!". So when we
got to the station, Matt was already there.

So there we are, a few hours later outside the station at Troon, waiting for
the bus: me, freezing and wondering what else am I going to do for a band,
and why I like travelling, and why I like crazy things; Matt, freezing,
smoking, and telling us his body is about to tell him 'you care more about
the fucking band than you care about me!'; and Rachel, freezing and getting
excited. Maybe in ten years I'll remember this and point at it using it to
explain the state each of us will be in.

The bus came, we got in. Still cold and sleepy.
"Matt, why are we here?"
"Cause we're fucking psychopaths!"

The next thing I know is Stevie Jackson stepping in, guitar on arm, looking
around slightly puzzled, then smiling. Matt reached to take his badge out
while me and Rachel giggled, and one of the girls that played the violin
came and sat in front of us. We went silent. Then Matt asked: "So, what do
you think about football?" . "Ummmm. Not much." "What do you think about
baseball then?"

I hope we didn't annoy them. Not by talking about baseball, by staring and
giggling. We never talked to them. I didn't want them to feel stalked, plus
probably I couldn't think of anything to say. I did hope they would say
hi -it was quite obvious that we were fans. They never did. I hope they didn
't feel stalked. As Rachel said, 'being in the same ferry with a band is
good too'. Feeling seasick and telling stories while watching the heroes of
our story doing ordinary things: going to the toilet and sleeping and
reading newspapers and looking at photos. I hope we didn't make them feel
bad or anything. We were just a bit interested .

Arriving in Belfast was cold, very cold. I never really saw Belfast. I
remember seeing a rainbow there though. When we got to the B&B we were dying
of tiredness, however, we didn't sleep. I lied on a bed as soon as we got in
the room; Rachel looked around. I like it here, she said, it's as it's
supposed to be. Then she looked out of the window -it looks more like
England than it looks like Scotland. Looking out of the window she saw a man
knocking the door of the house that was opposite. And a man in the house
walking towards the door to answer it. And got excited, and decide to spy on
them and tell stories about them.
'When I told you in Barcelona that sleep deprivation has the same effect as
alcohol, you didn't believe me!!' I complained. "Oh no I did." she said, and
started telling stories about Barcelona too. I giggled. She stopped and said
"Maybe I'm shy because I'm crazy -cause most people don't understand me when
I talk. And I don't understand most people"; then went on saying things. I
giggled more, "I'm quite sure you're mad because you're crazy". And it's one
of the best things I've ever heard. But look -even Auntsadie knows.
"Sunnyset is out of her tree", she says. Isn't it lovely?

Later on, we're walking towards the venue; Rachel wants to find it, I want
to go to the Sinister meet-up but don't remember where it is; I am almost
complaining. But I discover I am too happy to complain, so I say 'oh let's
go. maybe they'll be soundchecking'. Without taking myself too seriously,
but you always have to try. We go in, are told to come back at half past
eight. but I hear something, I walk towards the stairs to discover it is My
Wondering Days Are Over. Nobody's looking, so I go down, turn right, look
through the doors... and there they are. Once more. I sit silently in a
corner, and nobody tells me to leave. If anyone who could have told me to is
reading this, thanks.

Standing out in the cold again. Talking nonsense once more.
"Matt, wake up", Rachel says, "Where are we? We're in Belfast! Get excited!"
.
I jump in: "Matt, why are we here?"
"Cause we're not old enough to have common sense!"
"Will we ever be that old?!! "
"Hopefully not!"

I sold the second one of Linda's tickets for a smelly 20 pound Irish note.
Really smelly. I still owe them a present.

Writing all this is quite hard. These things seem to have happened ages
ago -I guess that the 21st of December was indeed ages ago; and I'd rather
tell you about my afternoon by the sea today. About the sun and the three
boys sat around me talking about their future, and how they made me use the
word faith all the time. Though only in my head.

Anyway -I won't talk about the Belfast gig or about us hanging around
afterwards though we were dying of tiredness. I sang a dEUS song, Matt sang
a Strokes one, Rachel tried to make us dance, then we realised we were too
tired and walked back to the B&B. From that point not many things happened
apart from travelling back to Dundee, being tired and cold, and talking
nonsense about Stuart's car, dog, cat and rat. And not being able to
remember who Mike Love is. And saying goodbye to Matt in the station. And
getting back to Dundee and freezing to death.

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