On Wednesday, I attended a twenty-five-minute lecture, got some work done, had another lecture, then got a phonecall from Bryn, asking if I had a ruler. I took it to him (strange, you'd normally take someone to your ruler, not t'other way round), and he asked if I wanted to help him with his experiment. Since I didn't have anything much else to do (besides homework), I agreed, and got to explore the Biology department, even though I probably wasn't authorised to do so. I had the phenomenally interesting task of writing down the size his fungi had grown to in different temperatures, and whether sporification (or sommat) had occurred.

We went to his place for a while, then to my place, where we got ready for Hallowe'en. Then we went to Re-Enactor Anna's so he could get his makeup done, and I could ask for advice (makeup before wimple or t'other way round?) In the time that we were there, about seven other people arrived, also requesting Anna's make-up-doing-services. We went back to my place, were bothered by trick or treaters (luckily Ibid had some biscuits), sorted out Ibid, and went up to campus for the pubcrawl.

I was Sister Jezebel Of The Lost Seamen. As well as the habit and the wimple and the make up, I wore fishnet stockings and the Deadly Uncomfortable PVC Boots and carried a whip. Bryn went as The Phantom Of The Opera. He is planning to recycle the clothes for his Leaver's Ball. I hope he gets away with it. (Unless he dumps me before then, in which case, I hope he gets away with it, but everyone laughs nastily at him, he is plagued by horrible music all night and he gets food poisoning.)

And Ibid went as me. She couldn't quite get into my basque, so she wore a plain black t-shirt (my Cure shirt was too wet for her liking), my long black crushed velvet skirt, my PVC coat, the New Rock boots (she, too, spent the night looking forward to taking her shoes off), my spiky bracelets (except she could wear them around her wrists; I need them on my upper arms), my spiky dog collar, The Ankh and white make up. Considering she generally wears as many colours as possible, this was quite a sight to behold. She phoned her parents to tell them, and they didn't believe her. However, evidence was created, photographically.

We met everyone in Keynes Bar. Nick The Vice President had gone through with his idea of wearing just his leather coat and nothing underneath it (although try and Bryn and I might, we couldn't undo it fast enough to prove this). Bryn's ex was a witch with a really groovy broomstick with red flashing lights. Her boyfriend was . . . I don't know, a big scary-looking black thing. John was an old fogie. Chris was himself, except in a shirt with skulls on. Sleeve had pulled out all stops by going as a Nirvana fan (a great change from his usual outfit of Offspring fan). His originality was narrowly beaten by Mr Street, who, as a Guns N Roses fan, was hardly recognisable as the Metallica fan he usually presents himself as. Alex surely should have won the prize for best costume by going as himself. Instead, it was awarded to someone whose true identity I have no idea about, who wore a mask and a shirt that looked seriously blood-stained. My friend AJ was a cat, who carried a magic furry mechanical spider. Everyone went down into town; Ibid and I not following the others across the fields, in the interest of not falling over. (She had already fallen down the stairs at our house earlier on.)

Then the pub crawl commenced. We ran into the re-enactment types. Sarah was Evil Willow. Dave was a Mummy. Re-Enactor Anna was The Borg. They looked très cool. Every pub I went into, people stared at my costume and passed comment. Was very glad I didn't go as Ibid, which no stranger would know the significance of. Had some v. weird conversations and accidentally managed whip random girl harder than I intended to (my pretext? She was wearing my tights! Well, they looked just like mine.)

It was a rather miraculous night. We actually managed to get into The Hobgoblin! (A really nice pub, during the day, but it is very small and very many people go into it, so I usually end up lingering on the street.) Even more startling, we managed to get into The Cherry Tree afterwards! Which is always inaccessible due to crowds! And we got a table. It was at this table that the magic mechanical spider was whipped within an inch of its life and AJ started exhibiting her drunkenness. She propositioned a number of other people at the table, including Only Boyfriend who, quite literally, kissed her arse. So I asked her to kiss me and so she did.

Well! You have to do these things once . . . but I think we'll leave it at once if that's all the same to you. Her Hallowe'en lipstick was not very pleasant! Minutes later, she was under the table.

On our way home, we encountered Anna The Goth looking deeply scary as . . . herself!

Saturday 3 November 2001

An air hockey table has materialised beside the vending machines. Mint!

Sunday 4 November 2001

When I got home last night, I ate and did some homework and my radio reviews. The Fear Factory single was groovy; The Csars album is the possibly most depressing record ever made and not in a good way. Then Soppygit and Jo and I walked up to campus, to meet Sleeve and John. I remembered to bring some plectrums I'd ordered from my parents shop to give to John, for the first time in about a month, but John didn't turn up. Teeeep-ic-al!

We hung out with Sleeve, and yet another person called Chris, and some first year bloke whose name I don't know, though. Mr Erpen was present, so Soppygit talked to him. They are now friends again. Yay! When the bar closed, Sleeve went to watch "Brain Dead" with Mr Erpen (they share interests in The Deftones, pool-playing and gory movies, as well as Soppygit). Soppygit didn't accompany them, since gore isn't her thang. I wasn't tired, but Jo had gone home, and it would be evil to make Soppygit walk back alone at that time o night, so I walked with her and we started watching "Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy". Not far into it, though, I started to feel sleepy, so I went to bed and slept for eight and a half hours. Yay! I saw John in my dream, but forgot to give him the plectrums. D'oh!

Wednesday 14 November 2001

Don't you just hate it when a shop assistant is giving you a mixture of notes and coins, and they present them all in the same handful? When surely a large proportion of the world own wallets which have separate compartments for the different monetary types, and would therefore find it beneficial to be handed the notes and then the coins, or vice versa?

Also, don't you hate it when you go into a shop with totally honourable intentions (such as buying a textbook) and on your way out, you notice a rack of dishonourable items (such as videos) not cheap but nevertheless on sale? So I am now the ashamed owner of "Scum" and will be the regretful owner of "Linear Algebra" when the university bookshop gets it in.

Friday 16 November 2001

Earlier this week, I saw a poster which declared that UKC Dramatics were putting on "The Lover" by Harold Pinter on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Groovy, thought I, before realising that Iâ'd be unable to go to any of these performances. On Thursday, I was to attend a live punk/metal event in Margate. On Friday, twould be The Pit. And I'd be spending the vast majority of Saturday in a lecture theatre. Which isn't as sad as it sounds, because I'd be there to watch the entirety of "Neon Genesis Evangelion". Actually, that might be even sadder than spending all day at lectures.

Ibid asked me if I wanted to attend the play with her, which was slightly strange, because we're not in the habit of going to plays together. In fact, we've only ever been to one, and that was Bryn's idea as he knew someone in it. Well, we tried to go to another, but it had sold out. Anyway. On Wednesday, John announced that his legendary car was completely knackered. Except he used a rather more rude word than "knackered". There went my lift to Margate. So I told Ibid I'd accompany her to the play on Thursday. So we went. It was very well done, but I left the theatre (well, the seminar room) feeling unsatisfied and disturbed. Which was exactly the way I felt the last time I went to see a Harold Pinter play. So why the beep did I go and see this one? Also, between all the scenes they played "Summertime". You know, that jazz piece. It was really annoying because 1) I don't like jazz at the best of times, 2) I particularly hate that piece because I once had to play it on the clarinet and couldn't get to grips with it, 3) it was flipping freezing in the room, to the point where my hands were stuffed in my armpits - and I had my gloves on - and 4) they played the same bit over and over again! Oh well. That's my culture injection over with for another year.

Monday 19 November 2001

I hate trying to check Livejournal with a completely useless mouse. I wish public computer rooms would invest in optical mice. However, since this doesn't seem remotely likely of happening this century.

Wednesday 21 November 2001

My God! Eliot computer room suddenly has optical mice!

Friday 23 November 2001

I have just one really pointless thing to say: "I am going to see The Cardiacs tonight! And, chances are, you're not! Bwahaha!"

Saturday 24 November 2001

The Cardiacs were jolly good, I'll have you know. However, if it makes you feel any better, most of the goths at UKC are currently at Slimelight, to celebrate Anna The Goth's birthday. I, however, am not (for it would be sheer folly to go to London on two consecutive days, especially considering the depth my bank balance hath plummeted to). Also: passport application forms are evil. If it wasn't Eurorock, I would spend the rest of my life in this country rather than try to fill one in.

Tuesday 27 November 2001

I tried to mimic E.T. tonight, and got an answering service where you could leave a message. The beep? (Literally!)

[1571 had just been introduced. Don't you just love it when my journal documents technological history?]

Last night, I had The Best Night Ever! I went to this rock event at The Beercart Arms in Canterbury. Entry was free and the music was superb! Loads of classic rock, plus the best of recent indie and metal. I kept meaning to take a break from dancing, but there was no opportunity. I rediscovered what a tremendous song "Pretty Fly For A White Guy" is (I don't think I've ever heard it at a club) and realised why traditional metallers don't wear hoodies: if you start headbanging, they join in. And it's a weekly thing! I don't know if I'll be able to go next week, since I'm seeing Rammstein in Nodnol on Sunday night, and will therefore get a maximum of five hours sleep, and followed by a day full o lectures, but I hope I have the energy.

Friday 30 November 2001

As the weather grew colder and colder, I reached the conclusion that a t-shirt and a rapidly disintegrating leather jacket would not provide me with sufficient warmth. For although I spent most of my existence in the frozen wastelands of the north, the Pennines protect them from the biting Siberian wind that the east coast is afflicted with. There seemed to be only one option: wearing a jumper. (By which I mean a thicker version of a sweater, if you're American or are overly obsessed with dissecting computers.)

The only problem is jumpers are evil.

If I'm going to buy an item of clothing, I have to feel passionately about it. This is the main reason I only owned two outfits, including my school uniform, until I left home: Carlisle offered nothing other than the bog-standard high street shops. Therefore the only jumpers I could bring myself to buy were plain black.

However! Although they looked like ordinary, harmless black jumpers, they had hidden cruelties which they only revealed when worn (once purchased: they looked fine in the dressing room). The first was translucent, which prevented me from wearing anything but a plain black t-shirt underneath. The second was short, which stopped me from wearing most of my t-shirts (which, being band shirts, are extra large) underneath, and had a slashed neckline, thus revealing the collar of whatever t-shirt I was wearing. And so, again, I was restricted to small black t-shirts. The third was a polo neck and suited me not at all.

Upon starting university (for the second time), I bought a UKC hooded sweatshirt. At the time, it was a fairly trendy and totally non-gothic item to own: grey, with large navy-blue letters spelling (surprisingly enough) "UKC" across the chest. It went on to become totally unwearable though, due to the opening of several GAPs up and down the country (which, if you're fortunate enough to live over hundred miles away from one, produce identical garments with "GAP" on the front), and "Canterbury's First Fcuk", with its range of black fleeces with a neon pink FC on one side of the zip and UK on the other. (That sign bothered me greatly, by the way. Firstly, it seems minorly hypocritical to display a slogan containing as-near-to-a-swearword-as-makes-no-difference in the high street of a town where the church restricts the amount of rock nights, and secondly, the FIRST French Connection? Does that mean it's going to get another one? Eek! I rather liked their range of "FCUK SHOPPING", "FCUK FOOTBALL" etc t-shirts, but I cannot begin to understand why you'd want to walk round with a shop name emblazoned across your chest. I keep hold of my Black Rose carrier bags, but only because they're strong and a fetching shade of purple, and goths can say, "Ooh, you've been to Black Rose. What did you get there?" But why would anyone take pride in going to a high street shop?)

Anyway. I had no jumper-like garments that I liked. What was I to do?

And then the answer came to me: get a hoodie. Warm, generally black, easily available and rock-society approved. Yes!

But it wasn't quite that simple. Because I had to decide which band's hoodie to get.

If it was simply a matter of buying that of your favourite band, it would have been . . . well, not easy, because I'm not sure who my favourite band is, but easier, nevertheless. However, if they make Madness, Stranglers, Alice Cooper and Depeche Mode hoodies, they don't sell them in Canterbury. My choice was restricted to those displaying band names popular with people who wear hoodies: primarily, nu metal kids.

I thought about my options (immediately ruling out those advertising Bands Of Deth, like Korn and Papa Roach):

1. The Cure. Advantages: Teh Keweliez Kewr! Perfect for wearing on way to Slimelight. Dale has one. Goths do not like to be copied beyond a certain extent.

2. Nirvana. Advantages: Funchie smily faces down the sleeves! Disadvantages: Everyone and their hamster has at least one Nirvana shirt of some description. Furthermore, one of the great advantages of hoodies is you can wear a band shirt of the same colour over the top and pretend it's a different hoodie. Not the case, if the sleeves are identifiable as Nirvana-esque. Besides, I already own two Nirvana shirts, and I'm not even that fond of the group.

3. Marilyn Manson. Disadvantages: Everyone hates Marilyn Manson. I like his music and am fascinated by his life story, to the point of wanting to write slash about him and Trent Reznor, but I wouldn't want to show the world any sign of liking the man (or devil in the black rubber shorts?) himself.

4. Slipknot. Advantages: Very subtle, with just a small red SLIPKNOT on them. Ideal for putting badges on. Alex owns one. Besides, I'm very ashamed of my liking of Slipknot and the latest album should have been called "this album=sh*t", despite Classic Rock's rave review of it. (It's even been included at number 69 in their "Top 100 Rock Albums Of All Time" list. Blasphemy! I'm thinking of writing an e-mail of complaint, but I imagine thirty five other people will too.)

5. The Offspring. Advantages: They're illustrated with bright colours. (As far as colours go, I prefer bright one.) Disadvantages: Sleeve, and numerous others, own one. Besides, it would be Wrong: they've released six albums, I believe, and all I've got is a homemade "best of" tape.

6. The Deftones. Advantages: The "White Pony" one is pretty. The Deftones are the most respected nu band among metal community. Unlike all the other hoodies, Noj wouldn't slaughter me for owning it. Disadvantages: there are more Deftones hoodies in the world than there are people.

7. Spineshank. Disadvantages: My friend Tiggs owns one, and anyway, I've only heard one song.

And there, my choices ended. Nevertheless, on Wednesday 21st November, Bryn and I ventured into Canterbury, to see what The Indoor Market and 3rd Eye 2000 had to offer.

The former brought to light a few varieties of hoodie I hadn't expected to find. A Guns N Roses one, a Metallica one - ooh, a Motorhead one. But none of them instantly grabbed me (which is just as well - animate items of clothing are well scary), so to The Shop That Wishes It Was Still Last Year I went.

And there I found exactly what I was looking for. A Nine Inch Nails hoodie! A band favoured not only by metallers, but by goths also! I could wear it on my way to Slimelight! It was black, the sleeves were plain, the design was tasteful and although I was pretty sure Nick The Vice President had a NIN t-shirt, I didn't know anyone who had a hoodie. And, most amazingly of all, the size was SMALL! Incredible! I tried it on, and it suited me! Would the amazement ever cease?

The only problem was the lack of price label. And when I asked at the counter, I found it was £27.99. Ulp. Far too expensive for the likes of me.

The ones I'd found earlier were cheaper. But I could no longer settle for them. I'd found the perfect drug hoodie, and the others were probably extra large, too.

So I begged for a student discount. I was refused one, but told there'd be a sale on in January (perhaps they're closing down due to their out-of-date-ness?) but by then, summer would be coming, and my time of greatest need would have passed. Nevertheless, I was pleased with my purchase. Bryn said I looked very alluring in it, and Sleeve and I were able to exclaim in collective joy over the warmth the front panel of a hoodie brings to the wearer's hands.

However, there were three problems I had overlooked:

1. The popularity of this design.

Whenever I go to a concert, I will wear the appropriate band shirt if I own it, but consider it most rude to wear one promoting a different band. And so, when I went to see The Cardiacs two days later, I wore Black Jumper Of Dume #2 instead. I wasn't quite sure what Cardiacs fans would look like. When I attended Black Celebration four weeks earlier (a music event headlined by Covenant), it was easy to determine the location of the venue simply by Following The Goths. But how does one dress if they favour punky Christmas carols with weird totally meaningless lyrics by a band, established over twenty years ago, that 99.999% of the world has never even heard of?

Nevertheless, we reached the concert without too much trouble (although it had been shifted from London Astoria 2 to London Astoria 1), and indoors I discovered punks and goths made up a fair proportion of the audience.

Including a guy wearing a NIN hoodie. Just like mine, although the design on the front of mine was on the back of his, and vice versa. Grr!

2. The popularity of this design within my immediate social circle.

Five days after buying the hoodie, a number of rock society members decided to investigate the new rock night in town. (Which had absolutely nothing to do with the identically named boots, except that a few of the attendees wore them.) And AJ turned up in a NIN hoodie! Almost exactly the same as mine, just dark green instead of black. Mimph!

(She then went on to take it off and wear her Kerrang badge in the same way as I do - at the nipple. I very much doubt I invented this gesture, but I came up with the idea myself. Same with stripy tights - I started buying them from Sock Shop before I knew they were popular among goths.)

Worse still, a few days later, I saw a bloke on campus in a NIN-hoodie like the one I saw at the Cardiacs concert! No!

[And even worse, shortly afterwards I bought a Motorhead t-shirt to wear over the top of it, pretty sure no one else at UKC owned one. But AJ does. Argh!] 3. The hoodie says "NIN" on the front.

A few block capital letters, just like "UKC" and "FCUK" and "GAP". I haven't escaped from the trendiness after all! Noooo!