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ventaAnd so, to Whitby once more. Because I like a challenge, I left my phone at home and decided instead to rely on serendipity and my psychic powers to find people and, indeed, locate the extremely well-hidden house I was sharing with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
davefish, keris, ceb and damerell.
(This is not true, of course. I left it behind by mistake. I'm not quite sure how far away from London I'd have to be before I decided it wasn't worth going back for my phone, but can provide as a data-point that north of Coventry is too far.)
On Friday I went to help out at the Bring & Buy stall. Which had moved to a new home in the Spa theatre bar and was absolutely heaving. So for a few hours I mostly took money off people, frantically re-hung fallen clothes, and didn't do much else. Previous years, I've sneezed a lot at the Bring & Buy and blamed the lady selling perfumed soaps in the same room. This year I just sneezed with no one to blame, and by about half four realised that my proto-cold (which had been kicking around for over a month) was finally lumbering into action. Shortly before half five I bailed on the clearing up and ran to Superdrug to buy anti-cold drugs - I actually didn't quite make it in time, but I snivelled so pathetically at the lady who told me they were closed that she let me in to buy drugs anyway.
I munched my way through a curry in the evening, but by then I was chain-sneezing, which was (a) disgusting (for both me and everyone else), (b) getting expensive on tissues and (c) starting to cause my face to shred gently. So everyone went off to the Spa to see the bands, and I went home to bed. Or at least to sofa and blankets. Because for the first time in recent memory there was a Spa headliner I really wanted to see, meaning I had to lie around on the sofa trying very hard not to doze off so that I could leap up at half eleven and head out to listen to Mesh.
Who were, thankfully, most excellent. As someone pointed out, they look kinda dull but sound brilliant, which is the total reverse of normal Whitby bands.
Saturday I sort of scuffled round the town a bit being sneezy and pathetic, before heading back to the house for a bit more being sneezy and pathetic in bed. When I got up, the house appeared to be full of people drinking tea, so I joined them to debate important issues like "Does this house approve of parsnips?" and "Fun you have have sending silly text messages." (Actually, given that I'd mentioned that I'd asked ChrisC to check my phone for anything incoming/important at intervals, I half-expected this to result in a volley of compromising texts landing... Surprisingly, it didn't.)
We went off to check the quality of The Quayside's fish and chips (still quite fine); during this meal I also learned that one should never, ever invitepope_ant to a party. Mostly I learned this from him. Despite dawdling, we did actually get to the Spa in time for the end of the first band's set (I saved time by not bothering to get dressed up... makeup seemed a bit futile when I was still blowing my nose every three minutes, so it was all a bit vestigial in my case).
Anyway, Bad Pollyanna surprised me by not being awful. I had no real reason for thinking they would be, except the general malaise that seems to have been afflicting the bands booked at the main WGW event for years. However! While I'm not about to dash out and buy all their output, they're a thoroughly decent female-fronted band who sound very slightly like they'd like to be Nightwish. Their minimalist website has listenables. (CEB and I are mildly concerned that they might not have realised that "incubi" is plural in their recent single My Incubi but the poor lass might just be plagued by many of them.)
They were followed by The Last Cry who I must have seen before, because I recognised the guitarist by his hedgehog-bootscraper hair. Davefish had commented that the singer has ridiculous facial expressions: actually, CEB pointed out that in reality he's just doing the expressions for all three of the band. Anyway, they were also enjoyable, being a bit Cult-y and a bit something-else-y that I can't quite place. Maybe a less poppy Dream Disciples. I would say I'm not going to dash out and buy all their albums, but actually I'm quite enjoying their album sampler so I may try one or so.
I was standing at the bar withdmh when a soul-sucking droning kicked off from the stage area. Feeling my will to live ebb away, I hastily retreated to the middle of the foyer to avoid All Living Fear. I don't think they're bad per se, they're just fantastically generic and tend to make me want to stab myself in the ears. Instead I chatted to Pope_Ant who - as well as being a menace at parties - is surprisingly well-informed about the geology of Titan. And we had an entire conversation about methane without anyone making a fart joke.
Having just checked online to make sure I'd got the running order right, I see various things suggesting that Blitzkid were playing Whitby as part of their final tour. Which is a great disappointment, because I thought they were excellent. (And, while I didn't dash, I did amble with dignity over to their merch stall to buy an album). They fit in the genre I usually mentally file as "Surprisingly Melodic Punk" - the sort with blokes who look like they're going to be shouty, but instead turn out all to sing properly over proper punky guitars and they had a real human drummer. I've failed to track down a decent source of listenables, but there's quite a few tracks on youtube; the lazy can just assume they sound a bit like Green Day.
The Saturday headliner was Alien Sex Fiend. They came, they made a noise, I largely stayed away.d_floorlandmine reported that Mrs Fiend was doing a fabulous job of controlling a bank of synths and changing their programming on the fly, but even he didn't seem to think that was enough to make him actually stay in the same room as them.
Oh, and I won afetishman poster in the raffle. One of the tea-and-dirigible sort which one can safely show one's parents (I did, and they liked it). Disappointingly, I managed to leave Whitby without it, but still hope it might make its way back to me via the medium of the postal service.
Sunday was mostly notable - except for a nice lunch with my parents, and a bit of a walk which accidentally ended with me seeing Eric Treacy steaming into Whitby station in the undignified backwards manner of tankies everywhere - for the 80s night. I nearly didn't go, because I still felt quite poor and hey, it's hardly Laughtons. And no one wants to go dancing when excessive nose-blowing has basically removed quite a lot of their face. Note to my future self: go to the 80s night, you idiot. You will like it when you get there.
Mostly I like it because, on entry, you are handed a small card which issues you with official permission to dance like a complete twat, and assures you that no one will ever mention it to you ever again[*]. I'd still like to hear fewer standard-80s-night tunes, and I'm not entirely sure than any WGW 80s night is truly quorate withoutgiolla, but after a couple of slightly disappointing nights following Sexbat's departure from the 80's helm, I think D_FloorLandmine has just about got it back on form. Verily, did I dance like a complete twat.
We also managed to work out, between dancings, that the pleasant South African gentleman, Anthony, who'd accosted me on Saturday under the impression I was someone else had probably thought I was Elaine. Which is weird because she is (a) much taller than me (b) blonde (c) considerably more glamorous (d) wears glasses and critically (e) did not have half her face falling off.
So in numbers...
Bands watched: 6 (fewer than usual)
Bands genuinely enjoyed: 4 (more than usual)
Pints consumed: 4 (many fewer than usual)
Hours spent in the Elsinore: 0 (see above)
People caught up with: not nearly enough
Recently, looking at an old WGW write-up of mine, I came across a reference totukie doing The Sex Cloak Dance in our flat. This was probably only witnessed by about five other people and - despite it basically being nothing more than Tukie waving his arms around - managed to be the funniest thing I'd seen in ages. Even though I've now forgotten why he was doing it, the memory still made me smile. So, for posterity, because I will forget, the things that really made me laugh this weekend (and will probably not translate in written form to you lot):
- DMH's expression when he realised Dvae had caught him dancing to Mesh. I guess he hadn't danced to Last July :)
-maviscruet's excellent Jim Broadbent impression while dancing to Madonna.
- Elaine explaining to FuzzyDave over the din of the 80s night "I can't hear you. You are too far away. And Scottish."
[*] At least, this is how I see it. Shut up shut upshutup.
davefish, keris, ceb and damerell.(This is not true, of course. I left it behind by mistake. I'm not quite sure how far away from London I'd have to be before I decided it wasn't worth going back for my phone, but can provide as a data-point that north of Coventry is too far.)
On Friday I went to help out at the Bring & Buy stall. Which had moved to a new home in the Spa theatre bar and was absolutely heaving. So for a few hours I mostly took money off people, frantically re-hung fallen clothes, and didn't do much else. Previous years, I've sneezed a lot at the Bring & Buy and blamed the lady selling perfumed soaps in the same room. This year I just sneezed with no one to blame, and by about half four realised that my proto-cold (which had been kicking around for over a month) was finally lumbering into action. Shortly before half five I bailed on the clearing up and ran to Superdrug to buy anti-cold drugs - I actually didn't quite make it in time, but I snivelled so pathetically at the lady who told me they were closed that she let me in to buy drugs anyway.
I munched my way through a curry in the evening, but by then I was chain-sneezing, which was (a) disgusting (for both me and everyone else), (b) getting expensive on tissues and (c) starting to cause my face to shred gently. So everyone went off to the Spa to see the bands, and I went home to bed. Or at least to sofa and blankets. Because for the first time in recent memory there was a Spa headliner I really wanted to see, meaning I had to lie around on the sofa trying very hard not to doze off so that I could leap up at half eleven and head out to listen to Mesh.
Who were, thankfully, most excellent. As someone pointed out, they look kinda dull but sound brilliant, which is the total reverse of normal Whitby bands.
Saturday I sort of scuffled round the town a bit being sneezy and pathetic, before heading back to the house for a bit more being sneezy and pathetic in bed. When I got up, the house appeared to be full of people drinking tea, so I joined them to debate important issues like "Does this house approve of parsnips?" and "Fun you have have sending silly text messages." (Actually, given that I'd mentioned that I'd asked ChrisC to check my phone for anything incoming/important at intervals, I half-expected this to result in a volley of compromising texts landing... Surprisingly, it didn't.)
We went off to check the quality of The Quayside's fish and chips (still quite fine); during this meal I also learned that one should never, ever invite
pope_ant to a party. Mostly I learned this from him. Despite dawdling, we did actually get to the Spa in time for the end of the first band's set (I saved time by not bothering to get dressed up... makeup seemed a bit futile when I was still blowing my nose every three minutes, so it was all a bit vestigial in my case).Anyway, Bad Pollyanna surprised me by not being awful. I had no real reason for thinking they would be, except the general malaise that seems to have been afflicting the bands booked at the main WGW event for years. However! While I'm not about to dash out and buy all their output, they're a thoroughly decent female-fronted band who sound very slightly like they'd like to be Nightwish. Their minimalist website has listenables. (CEB and I are mildly concerned that they might not have realised that "incubi" is plural in their recent single My Incubi but the poor lass might just be plagued by many of them.)
They were followed by The Last Cry who I must have seen before, because I recognised the guitarist by his hedgehog-bootscraper hair. Davefish had commented that the singer has ridiculous facial expressions: actually, CEB pointed out that in reality he's just doing the expressions for all three of the band. Anyway, they were also enjoyable, being a bit Cult-y and a bit something-else-y that I can't quite place. Maybe a less poppy Dream Disciples. I would say I'm not going to dash out and buy all their albums, but actually I'm quite enjoying their album sampler so I may try one or so.
I was standing at the bar with
dmh when a soul-sucking droning kicked off from the stage area. Feeling my will to live ebb away, I hastily retreated to the middle of the foyer to avoid All Living Fear. I don't think they're bad per se, they're just fantastically generic and tend to make me want to stab myself in the ears. Instead I chatted to Pope_Ant who - as well as being a menace at parties - is surprisingly well-informed about the geology of Titan. And we had an entire conversation about methane without anyone making a fart joke.Having just checked online to make sure I'd got the running order right, I see various things suggesting that Blitzkid were playing Whitby as part of their final tour. Which is a great disappointment, because I thought they were excellent. (And, while I didn't dash, I did amble with dignity over to their merch stall to buy an album). They fit in the genre I usually mentally file as "Surprisingly Melodic Punk" - the sort with blokes who look like they're going to be shouty, but instead turn out all to sing properly over proper punky guitars and they had a real human drummer. I've failed to track down a decent source of listenables, but there's quite a few tracks on youtube; the lazy can just assume they sound a bit like Green Day.
The Saturday headliner was Alien Sex Fiend. They came, they made a noise, I largely stayed away.
d_floorlandmine reported that Mrs Fiend was doing a fabulous job of controlling a bank of synths and changing their programming on the fly, but even he didn't seem to think that was enough to make him actually stay in the same room as them.Oh, and I won a
fetishman poster in the raffle. One of the tea-and-dirigible sort which one can safely show one's parents (I did, and they liked it). Disappointingly, I managed to leave Whitby without it, but still hope it might make its way back to me via the medium of the postal service.Sunday was mostly notable - except for a nice lunch with my parents, and a bit of a walk which accidentally ended with me seeing Eric Treacy steaming into Whitby station in the undignified backwards manner of tankies everywhere - for the 80s night. I nearly didn't go, because I still felt quite poor and hey, it's hardly Laughtons. And no one wants to go dancing when excessive nose-blowing has basically removed quite a lot of their face. Note to my future self: go to the 80s night, you idiot. You will like it when you get there.
Mostly I like it because, on entry, you are handed a small card which issues you with official permission to dance like a complete twat, and assures you that no one will ever mention it to you ever again[*]. I'd still like to hear fewer standard-80s-night tunes, and I'm not entirely sure than any WGW 80s night is truly quorate without
giolla, but after a couple of slightly disappointing nights following Sexbat's departure from the 80's helm, I think D_FloorLandmine has just about got it back on form. Verily, did I dance like a complete twat. We also managed to work out, between dancings, that the pleasant South African gentleman, Anthony, who'd accosted me on Saturday under the impression I was someone else had probably thought I was Elaine. Which is weird because she is (a) much taller than me (b) blonde (c) considerably more glamorous (d) wears glasses and critically (e) did not have half her face falling off.
So in numbers...
Bands watched: 6 (fewer than usual)
Bands genuinely enjoyed: 4 (more than usual)
Pints consumed: 4 (many fewer than usual)
Hours spent in the Elsinore: 0 (see above)
People caught up with: not nearly enough
Recently, looking at an old WGW write-up of mine, I came across a reference to
tukie doing The Sex Cloak Dance in our flat. This was probably only witnessed by about five other people and - despite it basically being nothing more than Tukie waving his arms around - managed to be the funniest thing I'd seen in ages. Even though I've now forgotten why he was doing it, the memory still made me smile. So, for posterity, because I will forget, the things that really made me laugh this weekend (and will probably not translate in written form to you lot):- DMH's expression when he realised Dvae had caught him dancing to Mesh. I guess he hadn't danced to Last July :)
-
maviscruet's excellent Jim Broadbent impression while dancing to Madonna.- Elaine explaining to FuzzyDave over the din of the 80s night "I can't hear you. You are too far away. And Scottish."
[*] At least, this is how I see it. Shut up shut upshutup.
