Ostosero

I am at the Flea Festival in Fleagh(?). The reformed Stone Roses – although they seem to be in their '95 era, Ian Brown wearing his shades and a loose white shirt – are stuck there (having played a single set?). Or are they refusing to play (again)?- 

Myself and 3 others, one of whom is my old schoolfriend Enn Eye, are sitting relaxing outside in an approximate square, a chair at each corner. I have 4 cans of beer (to myself) and am drinking them, worrying about getting or appearing too drunk. I am having a discussion with one of the others, an earnest tall guy, about whether I saw The Stone Roses the first time around. I say that I did not but that I am not interested in the reunion and its nostalgic overtones. I have about half of my last beer left, swirling it, weighing it in the can. I feel drunk, having reached my limit, and want to try and secretly pour the beer away without insulting the others by means of my hoarding and wasting-

Guffit

The Beta Band and they are involved in some sort of comedy skit, talking in exaggerated English tones. A news announcer then states that Steve Mason and Alan Lamb(?) of the band will both climb Mount Everest. The skit, which is in black and white, then changes to colour and is overlayed first by a caption saying "Belgium" then by another that says "Colourized, 30 seconds later.". (I'm amused by the Monty Python-esque comic touch they display here.)-

We're on a gentle hillside looking up to the four members of band, with long grass and a pleasing, warm autumnal quality to the early evening light. Close up it looks like Mark Gatiss of The League of Gentlemen is now playing the role of John Maclean. He starts talking to a figure who appears from further up the hill. This character is also played by Mark Gatiss. I am quite sure their confused exchange is along the lines of, “Are you queer?”, with “Are you queer?” in response. As more men appear from uphill, one of whom is a comically trussed up Reece Shearsmith, everyone proceeds to ask over and over, “What am I doing here?”-

Behtro

I am with Alex Paterson and Kris Weston of The Orb. Weston is in charge of a revolving black drum, approx. 3 inches in diameter and 2 feet tall, that he is asking Alex to hit on the beat. He is doing this with a plastic shark fin (though it is more like a reverse tail, resembling a fleshy arrow point). This is for the track 'Assassin'. I cannot tell if Kris is doing this knowingly, the joke being on Paterson (as well as the pressure to keep in time). Kris has unusually short hair, the longest plastered across the top of his head. Paterson seems to be regressing as we go, getting younger, his hair lengthening and grin broadening until he resembles an overexposed 70's polaroid. I turn around and to my surprise there are several people sitting cross legged on the floor watching the proceedings. One of these is a girl from my primary/secondary school, Eee Gee. She seems to say something about everyone always doing, or being asked to do, what is expected of them - in her case that seems to be to provide tissues to-

Wohrd

I am on a strange adventure for which William Hartnell (the first Doctor Who) has been momentarily revived from his death (at which point he seems to be bent over, folded at the waist in some sort of ongoing stasis). He's dressed very much like his incarnation of Doctor Who, with a (furry?) fez, a black jacket and checked trousers. Physically he sports a white goatee beard, his hair longer and more lank than on television while facially he more resembles the actor John Hurt. However, in spite of all this Doctor Who-ish imagery it is William Hartnell – as at one point I try to impress him by mentioning an obscure film, 'The Cursed Devil', even though I am thinking of 'Shout At The Devil', wanting to ask about his experience of working with Lee Marvin*. His assistant for this “adventure” is the head of a young woman (no body or anything), her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face full and friendly. I converse with this head much more – at times she is perched atop a book and, towards the end, I am even aware in the slight change in the flecked grey carpet flooring of Hartnell's flat/TARDIS, assuming it allows the body of the actress to be hidden to allow her to perform her role. The exact nature of our adventure is unclear, though I do recall a sadness as Hartnell, his assistant sat on the carpet being cheerily practical as always, returns to his flat/TARDIS and thus prepares for his renewed death/stasis- 

*[In waking reality Hartnell had passed away prior to the filming of 'Shout At The Devil', nor was he ever in any way associated with a role in it.] 

Thereafter, myself and my former top floor neighbour, Cee, and another young woman – almost the assistant as a full person? - seem tasked with repairing a boiler condenser, first in Cee's flat and then in my own property (which I have very recently sold). This strange process seems to involve me weaving my way through a network of tight pipework and then – as the scene changes to a close diagrammatic cutaway through the mechanics of the repair, the joining of a pipe from the boiler to the condensing pipe – lying on my back and screwing on the necessary fitting. I do/have done this already in Cee's flat, reliving the moment in preparation for tackling my own place? I am quite confident about undertaking this task in my own flat – the three of us are crossing the street towards it – although somewhat wary of there being any potential leakage/damage when working above the ceiling (where the fault is located) prior to the handover. (Are we?) coming downstairs from Cee's flat and there is a blue liquid spilled in the stairwell. As we are walking across the street to my flat not only am I hit by a sudden weary melancholy, but also a stark realisation of that sensation as such. It is at this point that the other young woman asks me about my keys. As it's the day before the new owner takes possession I say it's fine as I popped them all through the letterbox.... I am gripped by a sudden fear – how do I get in? Didn't I drop a set to the building's Factor?, asks the young woman. I am confused. Should I see my old neighbour from across the hall (who now seems to be living above me)? I am troubled by visions of having to kick down the front door, of having to pay for the repair just as the new owner – distraught at the damage – is on the verge of moving in-

Hebrot

I am with Alex Paterson (of The Orb) and we are in a casually adorned room, lounging on sofas (and working on a track together?). At this time, however, we are listening to The Orb album 'The Dream' (or rather, I am, wondering what DRAP makes of this particular album, and whether he minds hearing it). I suppose, as it's not that highly regarded, he must be pleased to know that someone rates and enjoys it. I leave as he sits quietly listening to the track 'Duja Ve', with it's soaring and upbeat vocals-

I am now standing in a garden of stepped grass, several levels rising to the back of a 50's bungalow. I am talking to a tall, lanky guy. He has a slightly abrasive and threatening manner, an intensity to him that slightly concerns me. Somehow I can't shake the feeling that he is more intelligent than he makes out, urging myself to put aside my reservations and fully engage in the conversation with him. He has exaggerated, rubbery features - a flat, squashed nose, sunken eyes and a thick lower lip that hangs above the jut of his lower jaw. (He reminds me of a drug addict who lives in Yorkhill, which likely explains my hesitation.) I also feel anxious to return inside and to continue working with DRAP - in the back of my mind it is Friday and I am sure he will knock off work at 4pm. I wonder where I am. The guy I am talking to offers me a brandy and I hunt through a box (from?) and take out two sturdy crystal glasses (that I think belong to him too). When I take them to him there's some amusement about my footwear - I have always sensed there was another person present and he seems most manifest at this very moment of ridicule. I have on brown leather slippers and I quickly go one the defensive (knowing I should have put on some other boots?)-

I am in a top floor/attic flat with sloped celings and Velux rooflights. On a table therein are several pencil line drawings (in a nice comic art style) of smiling faces. They are quite good and all are signed in the bottom left hand corner by K. Penman. There is a leak from the ceiling directly onto the red bed covers below. I panic. There is a damp cigarette packet on the bed. My wedding ring-