Now we are 6*
Jan. 4th, 2019 05:47 pmHappy birthday, ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
desperance!
We celebrated yesterday, a day early, with Phantoms at the Phil: downstairs in the Loftus Room, as demand was too great to fit the audience in among the books upstairs. Less atmospheric (and literally, too: better ventilation would have been good) but more audible - the acoustics upstairs are not great, unless you arrive early and grab seats at the front (as we do - but it wouldn't work if everyone tried to do it!).
Sean O' Brien read the first two chapters of a novella-in-progress, whose title I'm pretty sure he announced as 'a cough'. Until I learn otherwise, I'm taking this as a neat way of not revealing a title. And it may be because I have started reading The 39 Steps (the new 'book of the moment' at the pub quiz) but I thought I recognised the tone of John Buchan in what Sean was reading (with a nod to Lovecraft, but why not?). I put both of these hypotheses to Gerry at the break, and she was diplomatic, as she always is.
Gail-Nina Anderson's story actually had a title (she often doesn't bother with such details): Sweet Folly. It was funny at the expense of the tourist business, and the lengths to which libraries must go to survive. Funny, as Gail-Nina's stories often are, right up to the point where the darkness took over and it wasn't funny any more. The reveal gave a curious thematic echo of Sean's story - the convention is that our Phantoms storytellers don't compare notes, yet it often feels as if a particular idea has been in the air.
After the break, Mark Valentine gave what he presented as 'a lecture on certain aspects of folklore', a lovely piece of performance played for humorous effect and yet with something genuinely magical at its heart, a landscape haunted by ghosts od - well, something you wouldn't think of as having a ghost. Which made a very satisfying conclusion to the evening.
After which, Gail declared herself willing to go out and eat, so long as she didn't have to make any decisions. So seven of us drifted off to Mario's, which has returned to its original location after a brief flirtation with the other side of the street. Somewhere in this process it has mislaid the huge antipasti platter, and the excellent (salty, chewy) bread and the house red has not improved, but it's still a friendly place for a relaxed meal (probably involving black pudding) and we ate happily, and talked of plans and of absent friends.
desperance!We celebrated yesterday, a day early, with Phantoms at the Phil: downstairs in the Loftus Room, as demand was too great to fit the audience in among the books upstairs. Less atmospheric (and literally, too: better ventilation would have been good) but more audible - the acoustics upstairs are not great, unless you arrive early and grab seats at the front (as we do - but it wouldn't work if everyone tried to do it!).
Sean O' Brien read the first two chapters of a novella-in-progress, whose title I'm pretty sure he announced as 'a cough'. Until I learn otherwise, I'm taking this as a neat way of not revealing a title. And it may be because I have started reading The 39 Steps (the new 'book of the moment' at the pub quiz) but I thought I recognised the tone of John Buchan in what Sean was reading (with a nod to Lovecraft, but why not?). I put both of these hypotheses to Gerry at the break, and she was diplomatic, as she always is.
Gail-Nina Anderson's story actually had a title (she often doesn't bother with such details): Sweet Folly. It was funny at the expense of the tourist business, and the lengths to which libraries must go to survive. Funny, as Gail-Nina's stories often are, right up to the point where the darkness took over and it wasn't funny any more. The reveal gave a curious thematic echo of Sean's story - the convention is that our Phantoms storytellers don't compare notes, yet it often feels as if a particular idea has been in the air.
After the break, Mark Valentine gave what he presented as 'a lecture on certain aspects of folklore', a lovely piece of performance played for humorous effect and yet with something genuinely magical at its heart, a landscape haunted by ghosts od - well, something you wouldn't think of as having a ghost. Which made a very satisfying conclusion to the evening.
After which, Gail declared herself willing to go out and eat, so long as she didn't have to make any decisions. So seven of us drifted off to Mario's, which has returned to its original location after a brief flirtation with the other side of the street. Somewhere in this process it has mislaid the huge antipasti platter, and the excellent (salty, chewy) bread and the house red has not improved, but it's still a friendly place for a relaxed meal (probably involving black pudding) and we ate happily, and talked of plans and of absent friends.
