The Pearl Fisher

My companion and I went to recce our local bingo hall last night. It was a beautiful place full of light, sound and movement. Well not much movement beyond the regular pumping of pens on card. Although the two rather individual men on the entrance assured us that it was a quiet night, serried rows of women moved to the numbers called by a bored male voice. Not brave enough for immediate initiation we left clutching forms to be filled in later. Outside, in a cage we saw a group of smoking women stamping their cards as a disembodied voice called out: “pink forty two, blue twenty….”. Upon returning to my lodgings we decided to watch the next Vampire film in my collection, a beautifully dark concoction called ‘Drink the Blood of Dracula’ It started oddly with Roy Kinear witnessing Dracula’s death in a previous outing went on to be quite racey and ended strangely as Christopher Lee succumbed to a surfeit of religious imagery. Tomorrow I travel to Cardiff, I am hoping things will progress in a similar manner

I have found a Phantom and decided that in the week to come I will go to Bingo. Both these things small in themselves are huge turning points in my life. Only time will tell what will come from them. The discussion for Café Artistique in Cardiff looms ever closer and it is with extreme trepidation that I view the journey ahead and the inevitable embarrassment of talking about things of which I am not certain. Conversely Mr Plowman seems extremely certain, evangelical even. Our brief exchanges on the axis discussion board (http://www.axisweb.org/dlForum.aspx?ESSAYID=18050#…) have left me downhearted in the extreme. Perhaps he thought I was being flippant, no doubt I shall find out in due course.