Sinister: Reporting Back

Tue May 20 09:49:37 BST 2003

Dear Sinister

I was so cream-crackered on Sunday night that I went to sleep at 8.30pm. 
Why?  Need you ask?

My weekend began when I dashed out of the office at one oclock and bussed
into town to try to find something to wear.  After three hours, Id only
purchased the Hidden Cameras album, which has its uses, but doesnt cover
much, especially on me.  So I wore the same clothes Ive worn to the
Winchester half a dozen times before  white v-neck, cap-sleeved top with
navy and red stripes, denim skirt and red mary janes.  I did my make-up
when I got there because I was in such a rush, then set about icing the 94
fairy cakes I had made for the occasion (94!)  Gav had also made a
stupendous sponge cake and brought balloons, so at 9pm sharp, we opened
the doors and started celebrating.  And lots of people came!  This is a
list of Sinisterines I saw over the weekend, because I cant remember
which bits they came to and which bits they didnt:

HONEY AND LINDA, Ally Cook, Gav and Sarah, Carey Lander, Mark Casarotto,
Ailsa Watson (nee Ross), Nick Dastoor, Robin Stout, Elaine, Sally and
David Moore, Nal, James Thorniley, Stefano and Sunnyset, Lindsay, the
Ginger Fox, the Pinefox, Stevie T, Jim Purple Trousers, Mr & Mrs Carsmile
Steve, Ken Chu, Jo and Ian, Michael Grant, Kristin and Mark,
LisawhoboughtStruanscar and friend x, Mistopher Chris and Missipher
Julia, Keith, Big Stu, Stacey and Richard, Joss and Dudley of course
 um,
I think Ive run out of steam there.

The bands were great.  Language of Flowers prompted energetic dancing from
two young gentlemen and there was a kind of stage diving from the Dudley
Corporation (I like to see imaginative use of space).  But these bands
arent *really* what you want to hear about, are they?  OK, lets move on
to the picnic and THEN you can have your content.

The picnic didnt happen.  I got to Kelvinbridge station at exactly the
time God decided to spend a penny all over Glasgow.  So we went to the
pub, which was quite handy, because the FA Cup Final was on.  Meg
supported Arsenal, the rest of us didnt.  She won, but we got to laugh at
Thierry Henrys diving skeez.  We ate, we drank, we were amazed by a
person who looked like a Columbian drug runner and an old man who appeared
to be using a giant syringe to inject himself with coca cola, then I had
to go home and get the tickets, which Id forgotten to bring out with me,
but it did give me a chance to shower, change and redo my face and hair,
avoiding the need to wriggle about in a pokey toilet cubicle.  Then I went
to the gig.

The Delgados were great, Mull Historical Society were ignored in favour of
the bar, Karen Dunbar was truly hideous.  Then, on comes Stevie, sharp
suited and bespectacled, wielding a harmonica.  And this is a list of what
they played:

Fuck This Shit (Struan waits backstage and Makes An Entrance at the end,
to cheers, presumably because the SILVER TROUSERS ARE BACK!)

Dirty Dream #2 (During which I realise that the boom is going to be
swinging over our heads for the entirety of the gig and that this could
get a bit annoying)

If You Find Yourself Caught In Love

Roy Walker (fingerclicks supplied by audience)

Seeing Other People

Like Dylan In The Movies (featured a more acousticky introduction, which I
quite liked)

Travellin' Light

Step Into My Office, Baby (doesnt half sound like Good Vibrations)

Don't Leave The Light On Baby (Stefano and I clapped in the wrong place 
oops)

Dog On Wheels

The Boy With The Arab Strap

I'm A Cuckoo

Sleep The Clock Around

Encore: Judy And The Dream Of Horses (before which the band spends
approximately ten minutes  no exaggeration  trying to remember how to
play the darn song in the first place.  Tsk.)

During two songs, the onstage cameraman managed to walk backwards into a
keyboard and accidentally play it with his arse (insert comment about it
being a shame we never got to see Isobel play the piano with her arse
which, surely, would have been magnificent).  Um, what else?  Richard
still has a beard.  I cant remember anything else.

After the gig, I told everyone to go to the Art School, then ended up back
at Allys flat, for which I apologise.  The next day, I saw Mark, Sally
and Paul onto their train and then did culcher with Mr & Mrs Moore.  We
were suitably twee (argh!  That word!) and looked at an exhibition of
illustrations from Ladybird books.  Then we ate Cornish pasties, then I
said goodbye, then I went home and fell into bed at 8.30pm.  Which brings
me full circle.  Which means its time to stop writing.

Bye bye

Juicy Lucy

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