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Seriously, there are many people that I'd like to visit, both male and female for various reasons (by many I mean several, okay a few, okay 1 or 2), including Mr Lester, our inspirational Team Dip leader, Come to think of it, wasn't I the most successful non-playing captain in the Team Dip last Manorcon? As this category consists of M. Stretch and myself it's hardly an accolade to boast about. and the rest of DipSoc. Still agree completely. The Oxbridge->London natural progression is one which hardly fills me with joy, though. It will always be the place where I arrived as a boy and came out of it as a man (draw your own conclusions), and I will never forget it. I wonder if this qualifies as Too Much Information? Spacefiller: I'm sorry to fill this subzine with so much whinging but it's an oddly good recipient, even if I ought to remember that all you readers may not be quite so willing. I guess what most of you are after most of the time from GIT is humour, but sometimes I just don't feel very humorous. I'm doing this subzine the only way I know how, even if it turns out like a monologue rather than a magazine every time. There are too many things in this world that I just can't begin to understand, appreciate, rationalise or coexist with, and more and more every month, which my overactive imagination converts to implying that the new ones will be even more disgusting. It's hard to know when that this is due to discrimination and closed-mindedness on my part, and when I'm standing up for myself against something that truly deserves my time, effort and emotions to oppose it. Cheestrings are a trivial, stupid example, but the multitude of little things is as bad as a few big ones. The little things will get worse and worse just as badly as the bigger things might; they're all hard to block out of my mind and I don't see why I should try and accept a lot of them. I find it very hard to live in a world where there is so much going on that I can't comprehend, and doing something about it is not terribly practicable for quite a lot of my anxieties, as the coward has an appalling record of success against the corporation. Trying to stop living permanently (and you know what that's a euphemism for) isn't the answer, and I'm not considering it, but a lot of what I'm doing at the moment is, in effect, closing my eyes and hoping it'll all go away - hence no job, no effort, no hope, no joy, no life, no chance. As Bob Hoskins ought to say, it's good to whinge. 'TUШЩЪ567”•–№ё_`aШЩ./0“”•я№efg|ћїѓяычуокебЭЩУНЗБЌЈЄ š”Œˆ‚|vpjfb^Z]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a V]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a U]a ]a U]a ]a ]a ]a ]a ]a ]a ]a #|ˆКФдежёђŽ   И Х Э г ќ § ў ` a b У Ф Х є ѕ Т У Ф Ы з ч ё   њіёэщхпкжвЮЪХСМИДАЊЄž˜’Œ†€|xtpkgb^Z]a ]a U]a ]a U]a ]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a U]a ]a U]a ]a ]a ]a ]a V]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a U]a ]a U]a #  { | } О П ѕ і ї UVWЙКЛOPQЉЊ nopжз–ћѕящунйебЫЧУПЛЕЏЉЃ™•‘‹…}ysmga[W]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a !мЅe#Р Ь)К,(l,(l(( ( Њh((ь(˜(Tю(h MS Sans Serif Symbol0Courier New0Courier New Arial0Sanserif 10cpi T h e L e t t e r L e t t e r R o u n d (now in a glorious proportional font, though it would be more glorious if it wasn't a blatant rip-off from SNOT...) Quite a lot to get through so we'll start with one from Mark Sheiham in London, very neatly word-processed: Chris, I regret to inform you that, contrary to your belief expressed in your recent Manorcon review, the Chamon is in fact an infinitely superior balti house than Balti International. You have the weight of public opinion on your side, Mark, and also the weight of the naan breads served there. I can understand your dislike for cabbage in your balti - although I must say that I've never tried it. Never tried cabbage in your balti? You haven't lived. Actually, you have, and you're missing nothing. However, there is of course a very simple strategy to obviate such difficulties, which works for me every time. It's called the "order a balti which doesn't have any cabbage in it" strategy. Yeah, yeah. You live and learn, albeit the hard way. I like cabbage, I like baltis, I thought it sounded nice, so...! A short excerpt from Mark Stretch's short letter. What will he do with all his old Kidlington address labels? Postal Perudo? Are you mad? No further comment is necessary, other than to state that I have received two sign-ups so far. Four or so more wanted. Also two names on the Giveaway list, but different ones, and the same three people have been waiting for a gamestart for King of the Hill for aaaaages. Waiting list immobility is a real problem. Go on, do some people a favour;sign up today; I'm happy to supply any unfamiliar rules on request. I received both letters and e-mail from Gordon Aickin now in Oxford, but this is quoting one of his e-mails; Hope you are well now, or get better soon, wichever is appropriate. I was a bit confused, by large amounts of writing and no games. (I dont think much of some of the fonts you were trying out. The old one was bad, but at least it had charicter. (I suppose I should point out I cut and pasted that in exactly as per the e-mail that he sent me...) I like this Sanserif font too, but evidently fans of it are in a small minority. Not TrueType, though... Lastly Martin Bates sent this from Manchester and it really struck a chord with me. Thanks for the 'phone call; it was nice to speak to you. My parents thought that you sounded posh, rather than like the east-of-the-Pennines scoundrel that you are. Lots of people think I sound posh. Can't think why. I was born in Shotley Bridge, very near Consett, almost on the County Durham/Northumberland border, and lived in nearby-ish Stanley until I was about five. Dad found a better job in Middlesbrough, and so we moved down here. North-Easterner born and bred, me. The job hunting is struggling. Tell me about it; you have my sympathies (especially as your degree class is one to be proud of). I went to the dole yesterday, and having been signing on for about ten weeks now, they said that they would start looking for a job for me. They typed a number (I think it was 999 because I want something oddball) into two of their programs and concluded that there weren't any jobs available. I'm glad I have a part-time job (declaring my pay for writing for Flagship) which gives me a form to fill in every time. Without it, the pitiful routine would be utterly embarrassing. I'm waiting for two replies and I've had two rejections. I want to work in London not only for the prestige and excitement, but also because of its proximity to Oxford, to friends I've left behind ...I agree completely with you up to this point... and women that I'd tap on the behind (after a few beers of course!) given half a chance. ...actually, I still agree with you completely, apart from perhaps the bit about the b–—˜ЏА !€‚ЋЌпрстЫЬћїёычупйгЭЧСНЙЕБЌЈ]a  ]a c]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a ]a  UV]a  UV]a ]a ]a UЩЪ6•ё`Щ/”№fgеђ  § a Ф ѕ У Ф њєющфпкеаЫЦСМЗВ­ЈЃž™”Š№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№Ф  | П і VКPЊoз—А ЌрстЬњѕ№ыцсмзвЭШУОЙДЏЊЅ ›–‘№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№№ЬЬКџџџџџџџџ%K@ёџNormala "A@ђџЁ"Default Paragraph Fontаџ@ўџ џџџџ РFMicrosoft Word 6.0 Document MSWordDocє9Вq