Okay, we’re good to go. The Silly Signing Clothing Contest begins now.* Ajlr is going to post a thread—or rather, probably already has done by the time I get tonight’s entry up—in the forum for you to post links to photos and photos themselves**, and she also, because she is a Wonderful Human Being, is going to give you a little how-to about photos and links and things, which most of you won’t need but anyone like me will need, with assistant flourishes and a heavenly choir singing alleluia.*** On Facebook you can post photo links under tonight’s entry only: having entries in as few places as possible will make tallying up at the end easier. On Twitter you can post photo links to #sillypeg.
Most of this I’ve told you already, tonight is merely the Official Launch. We’re having a contest for another signed copy of the new UK edition of PEGASUS†. To enter you must post a photo of the lurid and eccentric clothing you might have worn to the PEGASUS signing at the Forbidden Planet next Thursday if you were so fortunate as to be in London on that date††. The drawing will be random so it’s not like you have to come up with something that’s better than everyone else’s, but please try to stay within the spirit of the thing, which is also to say that as Hellgoddess I reserve the right to throw out any entries involving navy-blue pin-striped suits†††. The spirit of the thing also includes that this a family-friendly blog overseen by a fierce headmistressy type named Pollyanna and you need to stay polite.‡
And since this whole schemozzle began with Ajlr intemperately referring to a pink catsuit and my responding even more intemperately that I’d wear my black leather mini if she’d wear her catsuit, I would prefer the photo of the clothing to have the person entering the contest wearing said clothing. If you are in the clothes in the photo you get your name in the drawing twice. If you have merely laid them out empty in an alluring manner and taken a photo of them that way, you get your name in the drawing once. Hey, I have to suffer: I am wearing the mini, even though Ajlr has reneged on the catsuit.‡‡
Someone asked how many times you can enter: I think I’ll say three times. Because if you’re wearing all three sets of clothing—and note that there can be no overlap between entries, I don’t care how great the black velvet cape looks with everything—that’ll give you six chances and I think any more would be bad for your mental health.
Okay? Okay. I (or Ajlr) will answer questions as they arise.‡‡‡ You have till midnight Wednesday GMT to get your photos in. And please . . . have fun. That feather boa you haven’t thought of in twenty years?§ Go for it.
* * *
* Anybody who has just clicked onto this blog for the very first time has just clicked away again. Fast.
** Friendly reminder! 100K limit on photo size!
*** My mind is running on heavenly choirs because we’re just back from a faaaaaabulous choir concert. I told you that Ravenel not only tortu—directs the Muddlehamptons but is himself in a fancy local choir? The—er—Seraphim. I have, to my shame, not paid a great deal of attention to local music, despite there being an assortment of cathedrals within concert-going range, and cathedrals do tend to attract wandering heavenly choirs and music festivals. The Seraphim give two or three concerts a year, I think. I am putting myself on the mailing list.
This one was a part of a music festival. So the first thing that happened was trying to negotiate the temporary, festival-only web site to buy tickets. I came out the other end of this scarring process with a print-outable page that says, two seats for the Seraphim concert 2 July 2011, paid for, kaCHING!,^ bring this page with you. So I did. And when we got there—having parked in the car park helpfully signed CAR PARK FOR ST AURELIA we had to walk eight leagues through troll^^ country because the gate into the close was locked—and I handed my piece of print-out to the nice young woman at the door, she looked at it for a minute and said, Where’s your ticket?
It went on like this for a while. Fortunately we were early—because I was worried about things like the car park^^^ and the lack of proper tickets. We became close personal friends with the fellow who discovered (eventually) that we did have tickets, although they weren’t being held anywhere that anybody had thought of looking. He started telling us everything else that had gone wrong: the double bookings of both the hall and the Crusaders’ Garden where we went for the interval#, the tickets that hadn’t been sent or had been sent to the wrong venue . . . oh yes, and the locked gate, so that people in their party clothes had to walk eight miles through troll country (and cowpats). He was a tall, easy-going bloke with a good line of dry humour, and I didn’t take his tux too seriously, because ushers often wear tuxes. He was one of the singers. I can’t imagine much I’d less want to be doing right before a major concert than deal with frelled-up members of the public, even innocent frelled-up members of the public.
But the music. . . . ooooooooh. Except for some hooting from the organ at the very end and some eccentric strings for the Baroque stuff it was all a cappella and . . . well, I have a serious weakness for this kind of music and there just isn’t anything better. There were pieces by modern composers (nothing too threatening) and pieces from back as far as Monteverdi. Most of them were sacred, but after the interval there was a little burst of settings of folk songs including The Turtle Dove by Vaughan Williams and I was sitting there thinking##, how can he stand it? Listening to us when he’s singing it with the Seraphim? In fact it’s that the Muddlehamptons are singing it in their summer concert that is the most powerful risk factor for my losing my mind and joining in. I can’t decide if hearing the Seraphim do it makes me more or less likely to go ahead and lose my mind. I tracked Ravenel down during the interval to tell him how fabulous the Seraphim are. I also told him that I should have come to choir practise on Thursday, that we walked out of THE CHERRY ORCHARD—and he laughed and reminded me that I should have a go at the Muddlehampton concert anyway. . . .
^ Hands up how many people actually remember tills that go kaCHING!
^^ Also nettle, cowpat and ankle-breaking-hollow country
^^^ I’ve hurtled two generations of hellhounds around St Aurelia, but I’ve never been to a concert there
# As I was leaving the cottage I noticed that my little windowsill weather forecaster was saying rain. I was wearing a silk skirt and carrying a suede bag. Better hadn’t, I said. It didn’t.
## Sitting there thinking and knitting. The lights stayed up for the whole thing so . . . I kept knitting. Not having anticipated this I almost ran out of yarn. Brrrr. Next time I’ll take a spare skein. I should perhaps add that we were sitting near the back—there was a row of real chairs with, like, seat cushions among the pews, which Peter made for in a not-to-be-deflected manner. I’m not sure I’ll knit through a concert where I’m close enough for the performers to see me. Even performers who don’t look at the audience—I’m one of them, I should know—might find knitting a trifle eye-catching.
† Do not forget the crossword puzzle from last Saturday which is still open for entries.
†† And no, there’s nothing stopping you from entering even if you are coming.
††† Unless of course you’ve done something involving studs, leather, glue and spray paint to the dreadful object.
‡ Since these are, however, photos, dress swords will be permitted, since if you take it off to whap somebody you’ll only make a hole in your computer screen.
‡‡ Also remember that while I will be wearing the frelling mini in public and will thus have to be viewable from a variety of cruel angles, you only need to take a photo of your best side. If the side away from the camera is festooned with safety pins or features a zipper that wouldn’t close if the finishing of PEG II depended on it . . . it doesn’t matter.
‡‡‡ For example, Didn’t you say you’d post a photo of the mini and the new UK ed of PEG tonight? Answer: yes. I did. Now/again I’m saying tomorrow.
§ Ah. Hmmm. I don’t think I’ve seen my boas since we moved house.
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