Sinister: take my place on Eurostar, take my money and guitars

Mark Hester mark.hester at xxx.com
Wed Mar 17 21:50:24 GMT 2004


Hello!

First up, let me say that this will almost certainly be the last message you
receive from me from nme.com.  The folks at said music rag, in their “infinite
wisdom” have decreed that they can no longer provide a free email service for
the likes of you and me and so have decided to terminate all accounts from the
end of this month, *sigh*.  I, and indeed you, have been warned!  So it looks
like I’ll have to sign in afresh, with a different email account and appear as a
new member of sinister, perversely, for someone who’s been about for donkey’s
years.

Hello to Philippe Garnier btw, who has returned to the sinister fold after some
years of absence.  He’s right here in Oxford Town you know
.I daresay there are
other sinisterines here I don’t know about.  Time was when I knew all of the
Oxon sinister crowd; allow me my misty eyed reminiscence if you please.

My update on my trip to Belgium is well overdue, partly for reasons which will
become clear later, but anyway, the first person I met in Brussels was Annie,
right after I checked in to my hotel.  We went to a very nice restaurant where
she had the local delicacy which can best be described as sugar tart and I the
more conventional lemon meringue pie.  The proprietors of this establishment
were doing their level best to ensure that as many people could enjoy it as
possible, so the tables were really close to one another and it was pretty well
impossible to avoid getting in someone’s way.  Later on we made our way through
a quaint arcade which had a sculpture of a cow being carried off by a dragon
suspended from the ceiling and visited a bar called Morte Subite which means
Sudden Death, not the only bar with a rather morbid name in Brussels (there’s
also one called the Coffin).  I awoke the next morning to discover that the city
had been coated in a blanket of snow, which was lovely and augmented the already
entrancing spectacle of the Grand Place with its wonderful Gothic buildings.  On
the Saturday, I met two (twee) sinister people on the steps of the Beurs (stock
exchange), these being Olivier (who gets around, just ask Nikos R, but Doesn’t
Look Quite As Much Like Stuart As He Used To) and Aton (who hads recently become
a teacher  - brave man!).  We made our way to the Ancien Belgique and saw the
Veils and the Fiery Furnaces.  I was informed that the Veils featured the son of
someone who used to be in XTC.  The guitarist looked a little like Andy
Partridge and the bassist resembled Colin Moulding, so which was it?  It later
transpired that Finn, the singer, was the son of Barry Andrews who’d left XTC to
form Shriekback.  Anyway, the Veils started well but were ultimately
uninspiring, unlike the Fiery Furnaces who were rather interesting, especially
when they indulged in fairground music doodly keyboards
the keyboard player
concerned looking uncannily like someone I used to work with.  We had been
joined by this stage by Annie and her boyfriend Andy, who is in a band called
Wintergreen who have a rather wonderful song called Clockwork Mice which I
downloaded.  So should you:

http://www.iwantwintergreen.com

The following day I took a train to Bruges which was very quiet and picturesque
and has canals (woo – I have great respect for anywhere with canals).  The place
was remarkably peaceful with the peace only occasionally punctuated by the
clip-clop of hooves from the horse-drawn carriages laid on for the tourists – it
made me think about how cacophonous it must have been when *all* traffic took
this form.  Later on I partook of a beer called Kwak which is served in an
hourglass shaped glass in a wooden frame.  This fascinated me so I took a pic of
it
I might host my photos on the yahoo group corduroy smoke if I get round to it.

I have some very sad news to report now.  On Sunday evening, my father passed
away in hospital.  The last few days have been pretty hectic as I’ve been
rushing around from hospital to registrar to funeral directors, accompanying my
mother and sister.  I have also had the difficult task of informing friends and
relatives over the phone.  Although I saw Dad the day before he died, his health
had obviously deteriorated enormously in a very short space of time.  He looked
very hunched and jaundiced and was utterly unable to communicate with us.  The
death certificate said pneumonia, prostate cancer and renal failure and I know
he was afflicted with at  least another three conditions, so if any comfort can
be gained form this sorry situation, it’s that he has been freed from
unimaginable suffering.  So far, I’ve been so frantically rushing around making
arrangements and letting people know that I don’t feel that I’ve been able to
grieve properly, but the funeral is on Tuesday, so any words of support would be
much appreciated.

Mark.

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