Some Whitby pics for you to look at.

If you were there, it might help resussitate your short term memory, and if you weren't there, don't worry, you probably remmeber more than those who went.

Here's the net.goths that were herded together for a photo on Sunday (morning?) after the pub had opened (finally), and we were in a better mood.

Note the subtle placing in front of the church, which emphasises the oh-so-dark-and-oppresive mood, mostly caused by one too many steps to the abbey, and a general hangover. Note that hardly anyone bothered with makeup (wonder why).

See if you can spot: Lee; Oolon; Sexbat; Shawnee; Bob; dishmop; Obscurity; and the green bat with the shades on.
The Elsinore. The main gathering place for everyone who attended, and who shortly found out it's far too small, and gets a little too hot when 600 or so goths all try to pile in at once. At this point, it's around 10:15am on Sunday, and we're all wondering why the pubs closed, and getting photographed by weird people wearing kagools. Oh yeah. It was raining (again).
The Abbey. Placed right at the top of a cliff, this is where the pilgramages were occuring in the wee hours. It's main feature was the setps leading up to it, which were either 198 or 199 depending on how you looked at it, but in either case it's still a bloody long way up. Anyone who ran up was obviously off their trolly.

The graveyard was nice though, large enough for a few groups to amble off and do things best done in graveyards in the dark. I think some people brought a gettoblaster and were playing suitably goth-type music. And there was only a small polica presence on the Friday night (they went away after a few people from the Vampires Guild talked to/hypnotised them). Jon (from the Vampyres Guild) was hypnotically regressing people on demand. I had a bottle of vodka, and thus required little else.
Velvet and Olga. I hadn't seen Velvet for ages, so it was a bonus to run into her at the weekend. This was taken on the Saturday night when the bands were trying to play. Every now and then something seemed to go wrong, or go on forever in the case of Shadowmaker. God knows what Children on Stun were playing at; stopping short at least three of their songs. Sexbat recovered nicely with a good mix of tracks after the bands left, especially la piece de resistance - I'm a blonde (yeah yeeeah yeah), played when everyone was supposed to leave. I definitely remember a couple of people falling over during the disco, and a pair of women sharking ruthlessly through the assembled throng. Oh, and Cadaver selling net.goth T-shirts to non net people (which isn't a good thing); and his idea to come up with "wet.goth" T-shirts (because the weather had turned against us). Obscurity liked the idea.
Lee Armstron and James (Oolon). This is another pic taken at the graveyard in the early hours. Note the mysterious "no dinosaurs" badge James is sporting. Also note the slightly inane expressions on their faces. Exhilaration of clambering to the top of the abbey steps, or just blind drunk? You, the audience, decide.
Yet another pic in the graveyard, this time of Riddley and Kate. Riddley resigned himself to the face even more photos would be on the net with him in it, and gracefully reaches out grasping the air for more alcohol. Looks kinda pale, doesn't he. Kate, like the rest of the people who went to Whitby, seems to be in a good mood.
Aha. Myself and Velvet looking suitably pale and unhealthy. She said she hadn't got a photo of me, and wanted to rectify the situation. This again, was on Saturday night around the time the bands were playing. If anybody found that fan thats in the photo on Saturday night, it's Velvets. If anyone found any cash, it's mine ;)
Lounging around in front of the monolith in the graveyard we have Feral (showing what drinking too much Newcastle Brown will do for you, while someone who's name I've forgotten demonstrates how much you want to smoke your lungs out after the aforementioned abbey steps. Why is it so undulating there? Can they flatten out the landscape for next year? Like something out of an Escher painting, everwhere seemed to be going uphill. Ho well. It was fun after all.

Saturday 9th September, 1995

A man said to the Universe, "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the Universe, "that fact has not created in me
a sense of obligation."