Sinister: 6pm Morningside

[Caitlin Pigtails]

Walking home from work through leafy Morningside, I saw a bag of bread 
in a gutter.  Baguettes.  They were spilling out into the gutter, and a 
yellow leaf the same colour had slipped itself inside the bag.  When I 
was little, I always felt terribly guilty for wasting food.  I would 
cringe if I saw my mother scraping my left-overs onto the bird table.

Last night -- gig! Woo!  I skived off work early and dashed down to the 
railway station so that I could get to Glasgow and the QMU.  I wasn't 
as desperate as Rachel (who started queueing to get into the gig nearly 
an hour before the doors opened), but I didn't want to be rushing in at 
the last minute.

When I got inside - after hanging around outside for a bit with Mr 
Gillanders whilst he tried to get himself on the guest list - Carey and 
Lucy were handing out flyers for some club night or other.  Flyers 
filled with tiny, tiny print.  Everyone, going into the gig-room, had a 
flyer thrust at them.  Nobody, in the dim light, could actually read 
it.  The room was filled with puzzled indie-boys and indie-girls 
holding flyers in front of their faces and squinting.  Eventually, the 
Big Nasty Security Man came and took the flyers off the girls for fear 
that all these people wandering around the union squinting wouldn't 
look where they were going, would all bump into each other and the room 
would be filled with blood and pain and nightmarish images as seen in 
Luis Bunuel movies.  I think that was what they said, anyway.

Incidentally, a few people have said that the last time I Reported Back 
I didn't give enough details away.  The simple reason for that is that 
I couldn't remember any, because I was very, very drunk.  Sat in the 
pub, topping my glass of vodka up under the table, I accidentally 
managed to drink rather a lot without really realising.  It really 
didn't have a very good effect on my memory.  I do remember almost 
leaving my bag behind, and giving Jeremy a big hug.  But not very much 
else.

Miss Vilkas (who was one of the people who wanted to know more about 
the last picnic) said that four years ago she lived in Scotland.  It 
reminded me of the many, many hours I used to spend in the university 
library (in Scotland, natch), and how I would always see the same 
people there day after day but be too shy to ever talk to anyone.  
There was one girl who looked like her name should be Vilkas or 
something equally exotic: she had bright blonde bowl-cut hair, and 
looked strangely Scandinavian.

Of course, nobody was allowed to talk.  It was a library.

So, yes, the gig.  It was rather good - well, it *was* B&S.  Better 
than the Usher Hall gig, at least.  I don't think it matched their 
previous QMU gig, though, which was a bit mad.  They played lots of 
songs that they don't seem to play very often, like I Don't Love 
Anyone.  They played Stars of Track and Field, too, and I don't think 
I've heard them do that one live before.  We thought it seemed a bit of 
a shame that nobody was dancing, even right in the middle.  Over at the 
sides, Ailsa was dancing and I was bouncing around a bit, but in the 
middle of the crowd everyone seemed to be stuck stock-still.  Shame.

Name-dropping paragraph: big hugs to everyone I saw who was there, 
which includes Danny and his friends, Sweetie and Richard (who buggered 
off somewhere else), Gordon, Michael, Lucy, Ally, Gav, Sarah, Carey, 
Richard, Ailsa, Genevieve, Rachel, and David Moore.  Hello to everyone 
who wasn't there too, such as the other lucy, and, um, almost the 
entire population of the planet.

Even now, i still feel guilty if I don't eat all of my dinner, or if I 
see a bag of baguettes lying wasted on the pavement.



xx
caitlin

--
http://www.joannou.net/topofthestairs
"When life gives us lemons, we just sit there and sulk about it, in the
  corner of the room, in a fetal position."
         - Matthew Henderson, on the Sinister mailing list.
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