Losing the Robert
And so it is time to bring you the next installment in "Ian's Weird Dreams" tm
I found that I was travelling to a small town, literally a small town, like a model Trumpton or Camberwick Green, with little model houses and a big surrounding circular wall. The town was surrounded on all sides by rolling green hills. I was on my way to the town to visit a Goth club. When I got there, it turned out that the club was a little way out of town, and there was a train that shuttled people back and forth. So I got on the train. It was a huge black steam train, of the sort that I associate with the Wild West, it had a huge conical funnel, and a large cow-catcher on the front.
The journey was uninventful, and I soon arrived at a little drab door with no sign that led into a tiny black goth club. It was long and thin and low ceilinged. There was music playing and folks dancing, but unfortunately I didn't recognise any of the music at all. I started to get the feeling that people weren't happy that I was there.
There was a table from which band merchandise was being sold, alongside general gothy type bits and pieces, and I decided to buy Elise a present. The only thing I could find that I liked was a 12" x 8" glossy black and white photo of the Cure's Robert Smith. It was rather good. There was some sort of offer on, so I ended up buying this and receiving a few other photos of singers I didn't recognise. By this time I had decided that I really wasn't welcome and thought I'd better leave.
Then I looked in a mirror and found that I was dressed in a long wrap around silver robe with yellow edging. I had huge padded shoulders which then had even bigger over-shoulders over the top. It was as if they had been made out of tyres, straight out of Mad Max 2, but they were a sort of pinky-red in colour. They were so big that they stuck out maybe a foot on either side of my shoulders. They were the sort of shoulders you see on eccentric Tauren in WoW. Lastly, under the robe I could see I was wearing a silky pale blue priests stole, edged in pale pink, and with pale pink calvary crosses on each end.
I sort of understood then why I hadn't fitted in, and I left. Shortly afterwards I looked through the pile of photos I had come away with, and the Robert Smith one was missing.
I found that I was travelling to a small town, literally a small town, like a model Trumpton or Camberwick Green, with little model houses and a big surrounding circular wall. The town was surrounded on all sides by rolling green hills. I was on my way to the town to visit a Goth club. When I got there, it turned out that the club was a little way out of town, and there was a train that shuttled people back and forth. So I got on the train. It was a huge black steam train, of the sort that I associate with the Wild West, it had a huge conical funnel, and a large cow-catcher on the front.
The journey was uninventful, and I soon arrived at a little drab door with no sign that led into a tiny black goth club. It was long and thin and low ceilinged. There was music playing and folks dancing, but unfortunately I didn't recognise any of the music at all. I started to get the feeling that people weren't happy that I was there.
There was a table from which band merchandise was being sold, alongside general gothy type bits and pieces, and I decided to buy Elise a present. The only thing I could find that I liked was a 12" x 8" glossy black and white photo of the Cure's Robert Smith. It was rather good. There was some sort of offer on, so I ended up buying this and receiving a few other photos of singers I didn't recognise. By this time I had decided that I really wasn't welcome and thought I'd better leave.
Then I looked in a mirror and found that I was dressed in a long wrap around silver robe with yellow edging. I had huge padded shoulders which then had even bigger over-shoulders over the top. It was as if they had been made out of tyres, straight out of Mad Max 2, but they were a sort of pinky-red in colour. They were so big that they stuck out maybe a foot on either side of my shoulders. They were the sort of shoulders you see on eccentric Tauren in WoW. Lastly, under the robe I could see I was wearing a silky pale blue priests stole, edged in pale pink, and with pale pink calvary crosses on each end.
I sort of understood then why I hadn't fitted in, and I left. Shortly afterwards I looked through the pile of photos I had come away with, and the Robert Smith one was missing.