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Lucinda is heir to the throne of procrastination. She enjoys writing best of all the animals but also loves singing, dressing up in costumes and hitting people with wooden swords, pracing around with a voila/guitar/harp pretending to be a musician, cutting, pasting, and twisting, memorising bus timetables to London, falling into other people's fantasies through the pages of a book and taking shoddy photographs. Lucinda ascribes to the Guilemot's claim that the world is her dancefloor now & therefore dances everywhere, like Finn Andrews, like she's in a Libertines video, like the How Soon is now girl. She spins and spins and spins...
Y O U...maybe
From the moment of her birth Lucinda found herself being pulled in two different musical directions - both Baroque and Beatles. At five she made her first music friend based on a shared love of Octopusses Garden, but her exposure to later artists remained limited until she first heard Dont Look Back in Anger. Tragically, not being very rock and roll at nine, she then retreated into tacky pop until, at 14, Queen appeared on the scene. Despite these ageless influences the rather misguided girl failed to fall thoroughly in love until she was sixteen when The Libertines popped up, told her they could give her Anything but Love, and refused to give her heart back - she suspects it's cellotaped into a tatty journal somewhere. From that day forward she found a place within the wonderful world of indie, and never plans to leave.
are also good, although not as good as music. If you want to lose yourself in someone else's world I far prefer books, although some movies are really excellent. I wont tell you which as I'm not sure that you care.
came after movies and before the internet. It is probably responsible for far too much of our lives, but I don't feel inclined to argue with it about this. Occasionally I latch obsessively onto a program but since I'm sure you all do too I don't particularly care.
Lucinda adores all books with a fiery passion that blazes thrugh her body and sets her soul alight. Or...something... Some of her favourites include: Susan Cooper's the Dark is Rising Sequence, (possibly the best series in the English language), Pat Barker's Regeneration Trilogy, Vikram Seth's An Equal Music, John Fowles' The French Lieutenant's Woman, Beth Webb In general, David Eddings' The Redemption of Althelas, Pat O'Shea's The Hounds of the Morrigan, The Mabinogion, Malory's Morte Darthur, most things by a man named Terry Pratchett, and The Fairy Stories or Oscar Wilde(This has been a deliberate misunderstanding brought to you by Lucinda Publications. I hope you have at least been marginally amused.)
Some achieve heroism. Others have heroism thrust upon them. Tobias Llynton saw himself firmly and irrevocably in the second camp. He just couldn’t seem to help it. He didn’t really want to be a hero at all. To begin with, they were deeply stupid. A fair fight, for example, only worked if your opponent was also an honest man, and the chances of stumbling across one of them seemed pretty slim. And what type of idiot decided that slaying a dragon with a sword counted as in intelligent and logical career prospect? He could only assume they hadn’t met many dragons. Then, there were the complications that seemed to accompany heroism. As a professional hero, he would have to rescue all damsels in distress in the surrounding area and marry at least one. But then, what was he to do if he met s rather nice girl who never seemed distressed at all? Did he have to create trouble just so as to rescue her? It didn’t seem very heroic, which was perhaps why it made a grudging, uncertain sort of sense. Altogether, being a hero seemed an utterly nonsensical profession.