Hey! Ho! Let's Go! 

  Went out last nite to see the very lovely Tompaulin and Trembling Blue Stars,
accompanied by the even lovelier and glamorous Pamela (late of this parish), 
having cunningly lured her away from her revision.  Having lost Mr. Carsmile
to Cheltenham temporarily, I must make amends for my lurking and take over the
position (also temporarily) of Oxford reportagemeister.  I'm not going to 
attempt to imitate his dress sense, though ;P

  Oxford doesn't generally appear to be chock full of skinny boys in smelly 
'vintage' polyester tracksuit jackets and girls with aggressive kinderwhore
bunchies and ankle socks, but they all crawl out of the woodwork when it comes
to an evening of champion tweepop.  Or so it seems.  Still, I can't really talk:
I was wearing flares.

  But anyway.  Tompaulin were simply *fabulous*, sweetie, with humorous
name-checking of Blackburn and other such Northern-ness.  It's not every band
that can carry off a viola player without descending into folk-jazz hell, but
by my troth they're a cracking proposition.  Buy!  Buy!  Buy!  

I did really want to be knocked for sixes and sevens by the KneeTremblers, but 
no such luck.  Mr Bob Wratten may look less like a corpse in the flesh than he 
does in photos, but I'm afraid that I just wasn't enthralled.  I mean, the Field
Mice wavered on the edge of insufferable wet-boy nonsense, but had the wonderful
saving graces of pretty tunes and nice production.  Nevermore.

  Pam and I got waylaid by some boring bald git in the bar as we were purchasing
pints between sets, and had to exchange banter about culture and the like.
Sheesh.  We came to the conclusion later that he was having trouble finding a
nice lady to look after his *rubber chicken*.  It's a common problem, evidently.  

  Am looking forward to the excitement of the first picnic of the season, and
also being unreasonably optimistic about the weather.  I've been trying to force
it to turn out nice by wearing sandals for the last couple of days, but I keep
getting rained on.  Pish.  Still, enough red wine and I won't care.  I shall
make *exceedingly* good cakes and bring them for general consumption, oh yes.

  Will see many of you next Saturday, if I'm not too addled by resin fumes by
then.  Why couldn't I be a Painter?  Installation schminstallation.  

  Liz :x                                                    0776 5895141
     "It is better to be interested in the changing seasons
than to be hopelessly in love with Spring"
                                                         George Santayana
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