Well. That weekend was bizarre . . . and yet strangely wholesome at the same time. No vagrancy. The strange men I went home with were respectively well-known to me and in the company of strange women. And the weekend also featured many hours of boardgames. And a carol service.

On Friday at lunchtime, I had to catch the bus to Carlisle, as my parents were just landing back in the country, and Noj was away delivering pianos. And who should turn up at the bus stop but Toneh! Buses have been good to me of late! So I had something to do on the bus, which reached Carlisle an hour before my train left, but I was then able to accompany Toneh Christmas shopping, so my time there wasn't the dull soul-destroying experience it normally is. Hurrah.

The train to London, to be honest, was absolutely brilliant! Normally, it takes about four hours (if you're lucky) and stops about ten times. This one only made one other stop before London and took the suggested three and a half hours. And it had powerpoints on it. Sadly, I was stuck at a table, and balancing my laptop on it made soon me feel sick thanks to the bumpinessjkiohopibn [on rereading this entry, which was also written on a train: what the beep? Oh well, it nicely illustrates how my typing was rendered]. So, in the absence of December's Kettle Hammer and Terrorizer (I think printing's been delayed on account of the Dimebag incident), I spent the rest of the journey reading "Sickened", a memoir of a childhood blighted by Munchausen By Proxy. Good thing too, because I'd been finding it a bit dry until then, and was on the point of abandoning it, but it turned out to be quite compelling.

Good things about the Arch Enemy gig:
- The venue (The Forum) was nifty. I'd never been there before, but it had a good size and atmosphere.
- I got an Arch Enemy long-sleeve t-shirt. Again, hurrah, for I love long-sleeves and I love Arch Enemy.
- I missed most of the first (bonus) act, Nightrage, due to the massive queue, but they were really good! I must investigate them further!
- Dark Tranquility, while not giving a truly spectacular performance, gave a very competent clean-sounding one. I only have their latest album, and was inspired to get the others.
- I hadn't made my mind up about The Haunted beforehand. One of their songs I thought was excellent; others, I wasn't so convinced about. But they gave a great performance, and I am inspired to check out their repetoire too.
- Arch Beeping Enemy! In case you hadn't noticed, I love this band, I love this band, I really beeping love this band. There were several moments when they played a riff so perfect and so perfectly that I couldn't help but shudder and sigh in ecstasy.
- I might be in Arch Enemy's forthcoming DVD! As we walked into the venue, people with biiiig cameras and lighting stoof were interviewing people and they interviewed meeeee. And then the band announced they were filming this gig for the DVD. Ha ha!
- I stand by my claim that death metallers are wonderful and the best. I met loads of people, including a really tall woman who let me stand in front of her and a bloke from Dorchester (where I'd been twelve days earlier, for the only time in my life, of course).

Bad things
- the music between acts was terrible, or at least terribly inappropriate. What were they thinking? The Clash? Ocean Colour Scene? Oasis? Manic Street Preachers (who I like, but not in this "Yeah, we only want to get drunk, huh huh" context)? Beeping Toploader? Argh!
- everyone was too quiet. Darn you, Ted Maul! Nothing has been loud enough since I saw you!
- I thought the first Arch Enemy gig I went to was better. I think the smaller stage worked in their favour: you could see them all at once, wherever you were standing, and they totally owned it. Also, they played too much off their latest album for my liking. I understand, but I've been really getting into their older stuff lately, and prefer it. And how about the new songs I know you've been writing? Eh?

Still, definitely worth going, although as usual I was deeply confused afterwards. Sometimes I wonder, why on earth do I spend as much money as I do on going to gigs? Really, it's just to see some (sometimes attractive) people playing music I enjoy, and having brief conversations with fellow fans. But couldn't I listen to them while chatting to fans on the Internet, with intermittant glances at pictures in Terrorizer, for the same effect?

And yet, I feel I'm missing out on something special if I don't go. And when I do, I realise that whatever the appeal is, it's there, and while I don't necessarily want to go to them every night, at least one a week would be excellent. But, of course, tickets and transport cost money I won't have without a job - although they also require time I don't have with one. I really have to get writing for a living, but how will I ever get on with that when I already want to buy tickets for every metal gig in the country and more besides?

Went back to UKC Alex's in Whitstable (which is also Sleeve's, but he was at Emma's that night). Ran into a Beercartian who'd also been to the gig getting off the train there. Alex was intensely jealous of my seeing Arch Enemy, but their merchandise people had given me two Century Media 2005 calendars, so I gave him one. (Oo er.) We stayed up talking for a while, which was cool, as I don't get to speak to him much, but he's one of the few people I know that digs certain breeds of extreme metal to the same extent I do.

I managed to get about eight hours of sleep and a rip-off bus-ticket for Canterbury. Despite it being the Saturday before Christmas, the streets weren't too crowded. I found and so bought a Children Of Bodom t-shirt and ran into old fiends Jay and Rosie. I met up with Dale, with whom I went into this huge scary new bit of Canterbury's shopping streets I've never seen before, in order to hunt down Matt who works in an enormous new Boots. We went for coffee, then drinkage, and in the process encountered loads of people, including Anna Das Goth, one of my old lecturers (still trying to convince me to do a PhD in Management Science as I had some "crossover" lectures in my undergraduate years and was skill at it), some of the Christchurch University posse and Dale's Dad.

Int early evening, I went round to Emma's house to see her and Sleeve. I decided against seeing Neurosis in Nodnol, and instead to go to a party. But, in the absence of anything vaguely bearable on TV, we started playing Scrabble. Travel Scrabble, at that, which I've never as much as seen before. Emma and Sleeve apparently play quite a lot. I haven't for years (Bryn being very dyslexic, that was out for us), but I won (by one point). And then we felt like another game, which I also won, by which point it was time for me to head to Limeslight. Sadly, I still got there six minutes too late to get in for free.

I went on my own, which I prefer. You run out of things to say to your fiends in the course of eight hours, but while theoretically, it should be possible to go to Slimes and not meet anyone, whenever I go on my own, I always meet new people, something I enjoy very much indeed.

And this night, in that regard, was brilliant. I met no one I knew, but tons of strangers, and in quick succession, I had extensive and intensive discussions about relationship-addiction, Maths and literature, and the nature of truth and life's other great mysteries. The music wasn't brilliant when I wasn't talking, but I couldn't have cared less! Love the lovely goths (apart from the totally shallow ones). I need more conversation of that calibre in my life. So much for ever getting any writing done!

Also, I got to go to an afterparty! Woo! I've always known Slimelight afterparties existed (well, ever since I knew Slimelight existed, anyway), but I've never been invited to one, as I've never made any effort to ingratiate myself into the scene. When I was at UKC, I wasn't bothered about meeting fellow Slimelighters, as I only went once every few months, so I'd probably never see them again. And although I like to meet new people now, it's only with the intention of having good conversations and getting to revel in the wealth of human diversity. I live too far away and still attend too infrequently (theoretically anyway - I've been a respectable five times in the last three months, but I don't intend to keep up this pace) to hope to make close friends there. And while I'm entirely capable of being a goth - I've got the PVC and the fishnet and the knowledge of all sounds dark and "bleeptastic" - I'm not. I dress like a metalhead, headbang when they play Nine Inch Nails and Rammstein, and often run for (the) cover (of the temple of love) when they play Apoptygma Berzerk. (Too much pop and not enough berzerk for the likes of me!) So I can't really expect Gothic People to Take Me In As One Of Their Own, and it's not a fate I seek either.

Nevertheless, this time sufficient unwitting ingratiation occurred for me to get to go to the aftergathering of Martin. Which was much better than riding on the tube and sitting in stations until 11am, when I was due to meet Soppygit and female Alex (a UKC student), and was in itself good. More intellectual and witty conversation ensued, as well as a chess tournament, though I ended up staying til 4, as I'd had very little sleep at Slimelight and no Pro Plus (yay! Hardcore insomniac, c'est moi!), so I felt too scrambled to leave and brave central Nodnol.

When I eventually did leave, the steps in Camden tube station made me dizzy and my eyes water. I was very much looking forward to getting home. I went to the correct station and got on the appropriate train. Then, just before it departed, there was an announcement saying my ticket wasn't valid. So I went to the information desk, to find out which trains it was valid for.

And there weren't any more valid trains that day. Argh! Not another night in Nodnol (or Whitstable or Canterbury, if it came to that), missing four hours work, and so having to do to overtime on another four days to make them up!

Luckily, Smill was free to put me up for the night, so I went round, and her company was indeed worthy of the £5.19 this extra bit of journey cost me. When I arrived, she was just about to go to a carol service. Despite being an atheist and a terrible singer, I used to love belting out hymns in school assemblies. It's not something I miss, per se, but given the opportunity to do something similar, why not? So I whipped off my spiky dog collar and Children Of Bodom longsleeve with the grim reaper on the front, and hoped my choosing orange squash over mulled wine afterwards (as the latter is minging) compensated for my still-not-exactly-church-worthy Rammstein shirt, uberboots and trenchcoat. We talked for a bit afterwards, but she had some work to do, and myself, some journal-writing and sleeping.

The next day, I returned to Cumbria. I intended to write on the train (even though that constitutes graffiti), but I still felt f00x0red so spent most of it dozing and reading "Farewell Waltz" by Milan Kundera, appropriated from Smill's impressive collection of "Books Wot People Have Left In My Spare Room By Mistake". Which was good.

I had to get the bus home, but the only one you get in the space of an hour appeared almost immediately. All in all, another fine trip.