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blakes7-d Digest Volume 00 : Issue 307
Today's Topics:
Re: [B7L] Andromeda - the new B7? [ "David A McIntee" <Master@allisurve ]
Re: [B7L] Headhunter (was Re: Avon a [ "Dana Shilling" <dshilling@worldnet ]
Re: [B7L] Andromeda - the new B7? [ Julia Jones <julia.lysator@jajones. ]
Re: [B7L] Hallowe'en on the Liberato [ Julia Jones <julia.jones@jajones.de ]
Re: [B7L] Headhunter (was Re: Avon a [ "Marian de Haan" <maya@multiweb.nl> ]
[B7L] Re: crossovers [ Helen Krummenacker <avona@jps.net> ]
Re: [B7L] Re: crossovers [ Tigerm1019@aol.com ]
[B7L] Crossover mark two [ Jacqui Speel <jacquispeel@netscape. ]
Re: [B7L] Crossover mark two [ "Christine+Steve" <cgorman@idirect. ]
[B7L] Cult TV con report [ Judith Proctor <Judith@blakes-7.com ]
[B7L] More Addams [ "Ellynne G." <rilliara@juno.com> ]
Re: Nice Voice [was Re: [B7L] Headhu [ "Doraleen McArthur" <d.mcarthur@wor ]
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 08:48:47 -0000
From: "David A McIntee" <Master@allisurvey.freeserve.co.uk>
To: "B7 Mailing List" <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Andromeda - the new B7?
Message-Id: <E13qtaR-0000r0-00.2000-11-01-08-49-35@mail4.svr.pol.co.uk>
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> From: Christine+Steve <cgorman@idirect.com>
> > What is Andromeda and where is it shown?
> >
> > Marian
> >
>
> Its a show created from a few notes by Gene Roddenberry. Apparently the
> notes were found in a box by his widow and the show developed from there
-
> Roddenberry's influence really isn't that big.
It's actually mainly Robert Wolfe's idea for the fifth Trek series, which
he pitched, but Paramount didn't fancy. (In that version, the Klingons were
nomadic pirates, and the Vulcans had renounced logic anad become the
villains. The crew of the lest Federation starship had to try to restore
the UFP)
> Anyway, its shown on Fox in
> North America (Saturday's at 3pm EST). I'm not sure about the UK, but I
bet
> Sky One will show it as its a Murdoch company.
Amazingly, it's on Mondays at 8pm here - a mere two days after the US
airing! (More amazingly, by December Sky will be ahead of Showtime in
airing Stargate season 4...)
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 09:24:02 -0500
From: "Dana Shilling" <dshilling@worldnet.att.net>
To: <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Headhunter (was Re: Avon as loner?)
Message-ID: <00b901c0440f$78f9aa00$9d614e0c@dshilling>
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Carol said:
>
> Avon and Tarrant throw ineffectual gurney
> blocks on the android, while Dayna tosses a cart in the doorway, blocking
> *her* team from moving down the field. I guess growing up on Sarran
didn't
> prepare her for complicated pro football playbooks. Or she got mixed up
as
> to which was their goalpost. ;)
This is where they need Blake, with his grease-pencil-and-Palm-pilot
playbook
(I think it was in Horizon).
-(Y)
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 17:04:14 +0000
From: Julia Jones <julia.lysator@jajones.demon.co.uk>
To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se
Cc: B7 Lyst <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Andromeda - the new B7?
Message-ID: <QQKkBJAO0EA6EwT6@ntlworld.com>
In message <39FF02F2.44CA75B8@sdc.org>, Betty Ragan <ragan@sdc.org>
writes
>I dunno... I haven't seen _Andromeda_ (yet), but IMO by its last
>season _Deep Space 9_ had a lot more in common with B7 than it did with
>TOS...
Given that the only bit of the last season of DS9 I managed to see was
the incredibly icky final two-parter....
--
Julia Jones
"Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!"
The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 17:06:13 +0000
From: Julia Jones <julia.jones@jajones.demon.co.uk>
To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se
Cc: blakes7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Re: [B7L] Hallowe'en on the Liberator (was Crossovers)
Message-ID: <VgYltVAF2EA6EwQw@ntlworld.com>
In message <20001031.102953.-107899.1.rilliara@juno.com>, Ellynne G.
<rilliara@juno.com> writes
>The trepidation he had felt vanished. The prodigal son had returned.
>Avon was home at last.
<rapturous applause>
--
Julia Jones
"Don't philosophise with me, you electronic moron!"
The Turing test - as interpreted by Kerr Avon.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 19:41:56 +0100
From: "Marian de Haan" <maya@multiweb.nl>
To: <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Headhunter (was Re: Avon as loner?)
Message-ID: <002801c04433$734b27e0$6ded72c3@marian-de-haan.multiweb.nl>
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Dana wrote:
>This is where they need Blake, with his grease-pencil-and-Palm-pilot
playbook (I think it was in Horizon).<
In Duel Blake took time off to play with it in the middle of a space battle.
After that the others got Vila to hide it and it took Blake until Weapon to
find it back :-)
Marian
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 01 Nov 2000 12:04:16 -0700
From: Helen Krummenacker <avona@jps.net>
To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: [B7L] Re: crossovers
Message-ID: <3A00692F.7129@jps.net>
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Well done, Ellynne. So, Morticia's maiden name was Avon? I loved it.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 14:53:56 EST
From: Tigerm1019@aol.com
To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: Re: [B7L] Re: crossovers
Message-ID: <70.47251ae.2731ced4@aol.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII"
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In a message dated 11/01/2000 1:45:26 PM Central Standard Time, avona@jps.net
writes:
> Well done, Ellynne. So, Morticia's maiden name was Avon? I loved it.
I second this. :-)
So how did Grandma react to the return of her son, Ellynne? ;-)
Tiger M
`Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a function.`
--Garrison Keillor
------------------------------
Date: 1 Nov 00 12:04:15 PST
From: Jacqui Speel <jacquispeel@netscape.net>
To: "Blakes 7 list" <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: [B7L] Crossover mark two
Message-ID: <20001101200415.20811.qmail@www0x.netaddress.usa.net>
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This is a British one.
Blakes Seven meets Citizen Smith (comedy series set in South London) - th=
e six
members of the Tooting Popular Front against the establishment (with Robe=
rt
Lindsey in the title role)
____________________________________________________________________
Get your own FREE, personal Netscape WebMail account today at http://home=
=2Enetscape.com/webmail
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 15:53:09 -0500
From: "Christine+Steve" <cgorman@idirect.com>
To: "B7 Mailing List" <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: [B7L] Crossover mark two
Message-ID: <001701c04445$c00ec700$a0209ad8@cgorman>
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charset="iso-8859-1"
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Jacqui Speel wrote :
> This is a British one.
>
> Blakes Seven meets Citizen Smith (comedy series set in South London) - the
six
> members of the Tooting Popular Front against the establishment (with
Robert
> Lindsey in the title role)
I'm guessing Servalan would be first against the wall, come the revolution.
Steve D.
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 21:35:15 +0000 (GMT)
From: Judith Proctor <Judith@blakes-7.com>
To: Lysator List <Blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Cc: Freedom City <freedom-city@blakes-7.org>
Subject: [B7L] Cult TV con report
Message-ID: <Marcel-1.46-1101213515-ab5Rr9i@blakes-7.demon.co.uk>
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; CHARSET=US-ASCII
Cult TV 2000 - Judith Proctor October 27-30
This was to be a memorable weekend in more ways than one...
I'd been trying desperately to get two new zines in print for the convention.
I'd got all the editing and layout done and the innards of the zines had already
been copied. The hiatus was caused by the cover. Andy had allowed me to twist
his arm into doing a cover for Star Four, but no sooner than he'd agreed to
do it, than his life was invaded by real work. Needless to say, real work takes
priority over unpaid work for fanzines. I asked him if there was any chance he
could manage the cover before Cult TV and he said he'd give it his best shot and
agreed to mail it direct to the copy shop.
Around 10 in the morning, the copy shop phoned to say that the art for the cover
still hadn't arrived. We were planning to leave in a couple of hours... We had
to go to the shop anyway to collect 'Not to Know' a new B7 novel by Harriet
Bazley, so we crossed our fingers for the postal service to get its act together
and departed. We reached the copy shop at midday to find that the disc with the
art had arrived about half an hour earlier and the staff were frantically doing
things with it. They're lovely people at the shop I use - amazingly helpful -
I've been printing there for years now, even though there are other shops closer
to home.
Half an hour later, we had the first half dozen copies of Star Four with covers
and bound. With strict instructions from Jane to keep the zines resting on
their spines for the next hour to allow the glue to set evenly, we departed for
Torquay.
Nothing worse than an hour long traffic jam got in our way and we arrived in
time to get everything set up in the dealers room before the evening meal. The
dealers room was in a less than ideal position, but I wasn't to realise how bad
it was until later in the weekend...
Tea time was when I started catching up with all my friends. One of the good
things about Cult TV is that it's a half-board convention. You get breakfast,
evening meal and accomodation included in the price. Admittedly the food in
holiday camps is somewhat variable (I've acquired skill over the years in
knowing which menu items to avoid. eg. Tomato soup can be any kind of thin,
red liquid, but smoked mackerel can only be smoked mackerel - albeit a small
portion.) You all get to eat at the same time and the programme allows for the
meal times and it does make for a good social group.
The first night, the service was absolute chaos. I opted for salad simply
because it was self-service and it was obvious that waiting for a waiter would
involve us being late for things after the opening ceremony (I'd already given
up on the ceremony itself.) Things did imprve on later days, but I would never
recommend Barton Hall to anyone as a place to stay.
My mind is already blanking on the evening, but I think I spent a fair bit of it
in the bar talking to Gareth and to Frank Maher. Frank's an amazing guy - did
stunts on B7, but has worked all over the place and on all sorts of things.
He's far older than I would have guessed from looking at him. He was a
paratrooper at Arnham. He doesn't do stunts now, but gets paid to write action
sequences for movies, etc. (I haven't seen Die Hard, but he had sequences in
both movies.) Anyway, he was a great guy to listen to and I got to chat to him
several times over the weekend. He and Gareth are old friends and were clearly
delighted to meet up again after 20 years.
I really should mention the video programme here. Although, I didn't actually
get around to seeing any of it - videos are usually low priority for me - Cult
TV has the widest ranging video programme of any convention I have ever been to.
There was stuff I'd have liked to see, I just seemed to be doing something else
at the time! (usually in the dealers room) To give you an idea, you could have
seen all of Knights of God, episodes of Kit Curran, Jonathan Creek, Space 1999,
The Worst Witch, Maid Marion and her Merry Men, The A Team, Hostile Waters, The
Bill, Cleopatra 2525, Relic Hunter, Dad's Army, Captain Scarlet, All of
Ambassadors of Death, Catweazle, Highlander, Pulaski, UFO, Public Eye, The
Protectors, Magnum, A Foreign Field, and The Invaders. And that's only the
programme from Friday noon to Friday midnight. Many of these were episodes
chosen beacuse they featured actors who were guests at the convention.
Saturday - up for breakfast. Barton Hall can murder scrambled eggs, but the
rest of the breakfast was fine. I was sharing a chalet with Anne Wells and she
proved to be a most agreable person to share with. I always like to share at
conventions, talking over what you've done is half the fun.
I went along to Frank Maher's talk, followed by Gareth's. Both interesting,
though Frank was even more intersting on a one to one basis than he was on
stage. Gareth asked a question of Frank - can't remember exactly what now, but
the kind of happily derogatory question that you toss at an old friend when you
know he'll laugh rather than take it as an insult.
After that it was back to the dealers room. It turned out that I'd mostly
guesed right as to what would sell at the convention, but had underestimated
demand for "Blake's 7: The Inside Story". I'd assumed most people had it and
had only brought half a dozen copies. They all sold quickly, but then it is a
really good book. Browsing at your peril - it's full of interesting anecdotes
about the series. Star Cops also sold well. That wasn't a surprise. Star Cops
zines always go well at Cult TV which attracts people from lots of fandoms.
Totally different crowd from those who buy B7 zines. Star Cops fans are nearly
all male, B7 fans are far more of a mixture. New B7 zines sold moderately well,
old ones less so. I did sell two copies of Star Two though, which means there
are now only two left (grab fast if you want one as I won't reprint it. Some of
the stories will go up on the web when it sells out, but I'm not in touch with
all the writers now, so there are some stories that won't go up because I can't
ask permission.)
I went to a workshop on commedy writing which was interesting, though not quite
what I'd hoped for. Ken Rock's tips on selling overseas were interesting
though. You can sell a gag to several different countries, especially if it's a
visual joke. If it's a good verbal joke and it isn't based on a pun or
something that won't translate (eg. they don't have window cleaners or paper
boys in some European countries) then they will accept it in English and
translate themselves. Just don't try that trick on the French.
Another stint in the dealers room, chatted to several people thinking of coming
to Redemption. We'd arranged it so the Redemption stand was next to mine so
that Steve, Anne and I could all take it in turns minding shop while one or two
of us went off to programme items.
Rough Magik. I wanted to see this, and in any case, I had strict instructions
from a friend who's a big Paul Darrow fan to tell her all about it.
The working title was 'The Dreamers' and to be honest I prefered this once I'd
seen what the show was about. But I guess 'Rough Magick' may sell better.
It's horror, which isn't really my genre, but Paul is certainly well cast in his
part. It opens with a scene of a woman doing a magic ceremony and we slowly
realise that she's going to sacrifice her own children. AFterwards she is
visited by a group of men, including Mr Moon (Paul). She says she was dreaming.
One man asks if she was dreaming while she did it. No, she says. I dreamed it
and then I did it.
She starts reciting a line - something about 'he sleeps'. Mr Moon instantly
picks up on this and gives her a line in return. Then, in my favourite scene of
the whole programme, they recite this litany taking alternate lines between
them. He is obviously familiar with her kind, though he does not give the
impression of being one of them. He's a scientist with another specimen. The
recitation confirms to him what she is (a 'dreamer') and also for a brief moment
makes them seem alike.
Moon comes over as an excellent Paul Darrow vehicle: quiet, menacing, etc. Just
take Avon, make him a fraction more dark and reduce his sympathy a little.
Moon, we will discover, is nearly as ruthless as the thing he fights, though
probably not evil per se. (defining evil may be tricky in this world where we
will later see signs of a struggle between two sides who both look as bad as one
another.)
Later one we meet an associate of Moon's called Kenneth. Associate is a tricky
word to use in Moon's case. It is evident that Kenneth is useful to him and has
given him some kind of sigil which is used where dreamers are held in prison (in
solitary confinement is some special place by the look of it), but Moon is also
willing to risk Kenneth's life to get more information from him. Using drugs,
he forces Kenneth to relive something that happened to him at the time of the
Falkland's War. As a psychiatrist, observing soldiers under combat conditions,
he came across something very different - a harmless-looking farmer who is not
at all what he initially seemed. The farmer killed, and subesequently rather
grusomely dealt, with an Argentinian patrol. It slowly emerges that he is some
other entity inhabiting the body of the farmer. The "Chosen One". If I
understood it correctly, he is of a race that fought Cthullu long in the past
(and possibly other gods too). They seemed to have developed the concept of
being extremely nasty to deal with something even nastier. Not people you'd
want to meet on a dark night.
At the time Kenneth's flashback ends, we are uncertain as to whether or not he
has been taken over by the Chosen One.
All in all, it was a good production, though horror isn't really my genre so
I've no great desire to see more. My only complaint was that the soldiers were
too polite. I find it hard to believe in soldiers who virtually never swear.
After Rough Magick came the Cult TV awards. This ceremony goes more upmarket
every year and the guests and attendees are encourage to dress for it. Gareth
looked great in a dinner jacket and bow tie and his wife looked lovely too.
One of my favourite moments of the entire convention was when Alex (the head
committee member) did a routine with Sooty who popped up from behind a black
box. I really don't know how a routine in which only one of the characters
can be heard by the audience (I trust everyone knows that Sooty can only
whisper in ears) can be so funny, beats me. It was great though, and both Alex
and Bill Oddie got squirted with water. (I've long had an interest in puppets,
so this was a real unexected treat for me, though it sounded as though everyone
else was enjoying it too.)
Blake's 7 won 'best returning series'. Travis was entered in the hall of fame
as a best villain. Sorry, I can't recall the rest of the awards, though I did
notice that they were a good spread, which I appreciated as it suggested that
people had been thinking about their votes rather than just voting for anything
associated with their favourite show. I know I voted for Oliver Postgate in one
category and Thunderbird Two in another as well as a few B7 related things. I
also avoid voting in categories where I can't make an informed decision. If I
only recognise one or two names on the list, then I skip that category.
Shirley had asked before the con if we could do a script reading of 'All
Change', so a group of us gathered into mine and Anne's chalet after the award
ceremony and enjoyed our evening. Most of us had two parts, but at least that
meant we all fitted into the chalet! Shirley does an excellent Orac and our
actor for Slave also had the voice spot on.
There was also a casino (with play money) operating that evening. I missed it,
but those who went said it was great fun.
Sunday - to my amazement, I was still able to get up in time for breakfast. I'd
been to two 'After Dark' discussion sessions by now. They start at 11.30 and
end a lot later. They tend to involve just the kind of esoteric discussion that
I love - do more TV channels mean more choice of programmes? Do people abandon
old cult shows when new ones come along? - that kind of thing. There also tends
to be some discussion on the ins and outs of running conventions, which I also
find very interesting as other people's experiences can be educational.
Saturday had been cold and wet. Sunday was very cold and very wet. There were
tornado warnings on part of the south coast. The rain started coming down
sideways. We had to go outdoors every time we needed to get in or out of the
dealers room. The dealers room was on the basement level and had no heating. I
hit breaking point mid-afternoon. When Steve and Ann got back from seeing
Hattie Hayridge, I made my apologies and left through the driving rain to find
anywhere that was warm. I managed to catch the B7 blooper reel by pure good
luck and then joined the autograph queue. I still couldn't thaw out though. I
was stiff all the way up my back from being on the verge of shivvering for so
long. Eventually, I made a decision to head for the venue with the largest
amount of body heat, so went back through the weather and found myself listening
to Caroline John. About two hours after leaving the dealers room, I finally
thawed out and felt like a human being again. An experience I never want to
repeat.
I should add that it wasn't entirely the con com's fault. The venue had changed
hands a few months before the convention and as several other conventions who
have had the same thing happen can testify, this tends to mean that everything
you agreed with the venue flies out of the window. The site had converted from
a camp aimed at holidays for senior citizens to a young people's activity
centre. What should have been a gym was now a place for indoor rock climbing.
(I still find it hard to believe that the venue couldn't provide any heating at
all though.)
I don't really recall much of Sunday beyond being cold. Gareth popped down into
the dealer's room for a while to sign some of the Together Again tapes for me,
but it was so miserable getting to the dealers room (you couldn't get there
without braving the weather and there were no signs in any case) that very few
people were around. I think I went to a talk about Sooty (for those who don't
know, Sooty is a small glove puppet of a yellow bear with black ears and has
been around for two generations on stage and TV) in the morning. There were
lots of other interesting looking workshops that I missed. There were fewer of
us to look after the dealers tables than usual, so we couldn't get away as
often. We sold some Redemption memberships and certainly had some interested
people who will probably sign up later.
I skipped dinner. Barton Hall food was wearing on me. I didn't want to face
the rain again and I was feeling a bit low anyway. I was also chatting to
friends (who were also avoiding the food by planning to eat in Torquay later)
and they were more interesting than food.
Luckily I was more with it later as we had our entry for 'Famous for Three
Minutes' to prepare. Steve had suggested doing something around the Prisoner,
so we'd all brought what we could in the way of jackets/blazers. I'd nicked my
husband's white jacket that he got married in and Ann had sewn black tape around
the border. With my black polo neck and Ann's black trousers, it looked
surprisingly good. Steve had the black jacket with white trim, making him
number 6 and me number 2. Except that we twisted it around and made a play on
the Prisoner escaping Barton Hall rather than the Village and used a con badge
to make Steve number 323.
"I am not number; I am a free fan," he cried as he hurled the badge to the floor
before being surrounded by me and my minions whom I had summoned up from the
first row of the audience to slowly engulf him to the sound of manic laughter
and the phrase "You will never leave Barton Hall..."
Oh, yes, and Rover was a space hopper. (and that will only make sense to
Prisoner fans, I'm afraid.)
Fancy dress over, Ann and I retreated to a warm chalet to do some filking. We
spent a relaxed hour or so composing a new filk for Vila to the tune of
'Lincolnshire Poacher' which we both knew. The storm was so loud that we never
heard any footsteps, so when there was a loud knock on the door, we nearly
jumped out of our skins. It was only Jon dropping by, to show us his
period Vampire with lace cuffs (which looked really classy. Just think Spike
and dress Victorian/Edwardian).
Ann dressed as a Victorian gentleman for the disco. (I've never heard of Adam
Adamant, but that was the theme for the evening.) Janet and Chris had gone the
whole hog and hired period dresses which I duely ventured forth to admire. Not
being a disco person, I then retired to the After Dark to discuss the future of
conventions and why people do/do not go to them. A really interesting session
that ended around three in the morning. We discussed all sorts of things -
should conventions provide facilites for children? How do you maximise use of
video rooms? Does the internet make people more/less likely to go to
conventions, etc.
I like the people who run this event. I still like them even after being nearly
frozen to death in that **** dealers room. I guess that has to be a
recommendation of some kind. This is a convention I keep coming back to and
the depth of the After Dark discussions is one reason why. (Not to everyone's
taste though. Ann was bored after five mins the only evening she came, and left
to do something else.)
When I fought my back to the chalet around three in the morning through the
wind, rain and general turmoil, I was rather surprised (typical British
understatement there <grin>) to see that the felt roof had come off and was
hanging to the ground like a curtain. Slipping inside, I was reassured by Ann
that it wasn't in fact our roof, but had blown off the top of the hotel! Only
slightly reassured by this, but desirous of sleep, I crawled into bed anyway.
Come morning, it turned out that the roof was from Rita's room and that a fair
bit of water damage had seeped down to the ground floor (and could be seen among
the remains of the disco). A couple of other rooms had been affected and
convention staff had been checking affected rooms until four in the morning to
make sure that people coming back late were aware of the problem and could move
elsewhere.
Stephen Greif's guest talk gave us a break from discussing disasters - we knew
by now that parts of the country were cut off and that no trains were running
south of Birmingham. I'm afraid I can't remember the guest talk - they tend to
merge into on another in the memory when you've been to a few conventions. It
was enjoyable though, and Jackie Pearce joined Stephen on stage for a while.
That was the end of the main programme. I packed, and then Richard phoned on
the mobile to say that he'd arrived and had loaded the stuff from the dealer's
room. (getting there from Dorset was actually no problem - the road works had
been abandoned and there was no traffic jam.) We hung around for the closing
ceremony and then departed.
I was one of the lucky ones. Fans heading for the north of England were offered
the chance to stay an extra night. Ann took a B+B in Torquay with Chris and
Janet (avoiding Barton Hall food), but she didn't get home until Wednesday
afternoon as they were forced to stop overnight in Shrewsbury.
If anyone had anounced a convention at the Adelphi after an ideal Cult TV
weekend, I might have had reservations. The Adelphi has a mixed reputation...
However, that reputation includes on the plus side that it is warm and dry
and has lots of indoor dealer's space and good quality food. Thus, when the con
com announced that next year's Cult TV was to be at the Adelphi in Liverpool, I
was with them all the way. So were plenty of other people by the sound of it.
By the time I left on Monday, over 140 people had booked for next year, and that
was without a single guest having been announced.
You see, that's what Cult TV is really about. They will go for a large number
of guests right across the range rather than a few big names. They'll only get
a fraction of those they ask, and you won't have heard of half the ones they do
get, but turn up to the talks and workshops and you'll discover why they were
invited. Stuntmen, special effects people, actors, make-up artists, writers,
they all have something interesting to offer and unless you are totally wedded
to just one fandom, then you'll find interesting surprises. This year's guest
list included Peter Purves, Bill Oddie, Hattie Hayridge, David Croft and Xenia
Seeberg as well as the Blake's 7 guests, but the hit of the weekend for me was
Frank Maher. I'd never have come to hear Jeff Smart either (wouldn't even have
known the name), but he was very interesting and I'm sure the same goes for many
other guests that I never had time to catch up with.
See you at the Adelphi?
The web site is http://www.cult-tv.org
--
http://www.hermit.org/Blakes7 - Fanzines for Blake's 7, B7 Filk songs,
pictures, news, Conventions past and present, Blake's 7 fan clubs, Gareth
Thomas, etc. (also non-Blake's 7 zines at http://www.knightwriter.org )
Redemption '01 23-25 Feb 2001 http://www.smof.com/redemption/
------------------------------
Date: Thu, 2 Nov 2000 01:28:42 -0700
From: "Ellynne G." <rilliara@juno.com>
To: blakes7@lysator.liu.se
Subject: [B7L] More Addams
Message-ID: <20001102.012850.-401411.0.rilliara@juno.com>
Content-Type: text/plain
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
OK, it's been ages since I watched any form of Addams Family, so I'm not
sure how well I did some of the characters, but here it is.
Vila was only about halfway through his story when the old woman, for
lack of a better term, freaked out. She dragged him up the stairs, which
at least got him away from the smelly cauldron, and out of the dank
cellar with all its slimy and slithery things, and up into a very dark
parlor. The only light came from a few scattered candle stubs, but it
was enough for him to make out the dark haired man sitting by a very
primly dressed girl with black braids and apparently reading her a story
book.
Vila's world tilted slightly on its axis. "Avon?" he bleated
incredulously, but he was drowned out by the old woman.
"All right, Cur, what have you got to say for yourself?"
Avon put the book down. Vila caught a glimpse of a picture of a
disemboweled Andromedan before he closed it. His eyes widened slightly
at the sight of Vila, followed by a brief look of exasperation before he
said smoothly, "I'm sorry, Grandmother, is something wrong?"
"Is something wrong? *Is something wrong?* Do you know what your friend
told me about you and some Servalan woman?"
"I'm afraid I don't but, knowing Vila, I wouldn't vouch for its
accuracy,"
"You wouldn't," she shoved Vila forward, "All right, then, tell them what
you told me."
"It was nothing," Vila said, wondering what was going on this time, "I
just told her about some of the things that have happened to us. Cygnus
Alpha, Space City,"
"The people," the old woman snarled, "Tell him about the people,"
"What? Who? I mean there was Travis, Nova, Ro, your old friend Tynus-"
"Tynus?" said a blond woman walking into the room, "What about Tynus?"
She had a wan, wistful look to her, reminding Vila for some reason of a
flower bed he'd seen once growing by a flooded riverbank, the dead
blossoms moving slowly back and forth beneath the water. She seemed to
know Tynus and the truth, he remembered, was a bit brutal. He edited.
"Oh, he was just a base commander we knew. Er, not much to say. Very
into sketching bugs."
The old woman snorted, "Sketching bugs! It was an all male base, wasn't
it?"
"What?" Vila tried to think what was wrong with sketching bugs. Nothing
came to mind, "Oh, er, yes, I think it was," Now, those uniforms Tynus
had liked that made everyone look like a cockroach, *those* had been a
problem.
"Most Federation bases are," Avon interceded.
"And look where it got him! *Sketching* bugs! He should have stayed home
and married some nice girl. Look at that pretty Thing from the Mantis
family, she was crazy about him!"
"She nearly bit his head off on the first date," Avon commented, "It gave
him cold feet,"
"And burying himself on a military base was a solution? It broke her
heart."
"She seemed perfectly happy on that prison planet she moved to, even if
you can't say the same for the men there, the ones who are left - I mean
the ones she *hasn't* dated."
"She's just putting on a brave face after the way he treated her. And
don't take that tone with me. I know you helped him go into hiding.
Fake I.D.s, Federation military - you think I don't know you helped him
work that scam?"
"I did think you'd put the pieces together, especially after the first
twelve hours of interrogation."
"You should have told me!"
Avon shrugged, "Tynus didn't want to spend the rest of his life on a
prison planet with a Mantis girl. I can't say I blamed him."
"No, you're as bad as he was. Why haven't you married and settled down?
You think I don't want to see some grandchildren in my old age?"
"I seem to recall that you have grandchildren,"
"Oh, and that let's you off? Do you know how many golden opportunities
you've missed?"
"Golden ones? Not many,"
"And, now, you're friend's been telling me about this Servalan woman.
What have you got to say to that?"
"What have I got to say to what?"
Vila found himself pushed forward. "Tell them!" the old woman barked.
"I'm sorry," Vila said, "Tell them what?"
"Did she ever try to kill him?"
"Servalan? Lots of times. You could call it her life mission. Seems
like we couldn't turn around without her shooting at us."
"Did she ever set traps just for him?"
‘Him' being Avon. "Oh, yes,"
"How often?"
"Well, I never really kept count, but it seemed like once a week,"
"Now, mother," a dark haired woman in a long, tight dress said
soothingly, "There's more to a relationship than traps,"
"Oh, yeah?" she turned on Vila again, "Was she smart?"
Vila thought of some of the traps Servalan had set, "Very,"
"Good looking?"
"If you like blood hungry weasels, sure,"
The old woman turned on Avon, "AND YOU LET HER GET AWAY? *WHAT'S* YOUR
PROBLEM?"
Avon, looking very irritated, sighed, "Vila, did you mention Anna Grant?"
"Anna?" Vila looked around nervously, hoping from some route of escape,
"I think I managed to leave her out."
"Don't. Tell them about her."
Vila shrugged, "What's to tell? You had an old girlfriend -"
"ANOTHER ONE?" the old woman screeched, "CUR. . . ."
Avon held up his hand, "Just a moment," he turned to Vila expectantly.
There was a long moment of silence. "And. . . ?" he prompted.
"Oh, well, Avon thought she was in love with him, but she was really
setting him up. He thought she'd been killed but she'd only pretended to
be dead and got him sent to a penal colony."
The blond began to sniffle, tears streaking her face, "That's so
romantic,"
Vila didn't follow that but he knew better than to stop when Avon was
watching him that way, "Avon came back to get the guy who'd killed her.
Spent five days being tortured -" The brunette began to dab at her eyes.
The blonde snuffled more loudly, "Only it turned out he hadn't killed
her. She was still alive. Avon found out she'd set him up, so she tried
to kill him. Only Avon shot her first."
The blonde began to sob very loudly.
The old woman rolled her eyes. "Does somebody have to draw you a map?
What does a woman have to do to get your attention?"
"She was only after some money I was stealing,"
"So, she was practical. You think that's bad?"
"And she was married,"
"And if everything isn't just perfect, you have to go dump her. Maybe
she needed time to tie up some loose ends, you ever think of that?" She
grabbed Vila again, "What do you think. Did she tie him up?"
"Who?"
"Her husband! Who did you think we were talking about?"
"She shot him in the back,"
"That's almost as good," she turned back on Avon, "You here that? She
shot her first husband in the back. Why can't you bring home a girl like
that?"
"Believe me, she wasn't interested. I haven't heard anything from her
since the shooting. Just ask Vila about Servalan."
"What about her? Did she have a husband, too?"
"Not that I know of," Vila said, "Oh. You mean when we met up with Anna?
Servalan was there. Anna had staged a coup, but she hadn't killed
Servalan yet. She was chained up in the basement."
"And. . . ?" Avon pressed.
"What do you want? She'd been beaten up, I guess. And she almost killed
you-"
"Wait a second," the old woman said, "Where was this Anna?"
"Er, lying dead on the floor between them, I think," Vila said.
"Wait a second. The old girlfriend's just been killed and then this
other one shows up and tries to kill him?"
"Well," Vila admitted, "She'd been there the whole time. Avon found her
before he found Anna. He asked her if she knew where Anna was. Sort of.
He thought he was still looking for whoever killed her, but-"
"Never mind," the old woman shook her head, "Morticia, take the extra
plate off. Looks like we're not having company for dinner," she looked
sadly at Avon, "OK, she was cheap trash, throwing herself at you like
that. But haven't you met *anyone?*" she turned back to Vila, "Hasn't he
met any girls he could take home to meet his mother?"
*Mother?* Vila stared at her, sure he had misunderstood what she had just
said. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if this whole thing might not
be a very strange dream. He glanced at Avon. Well, maybe a nightmare.
But even in nightmares, it was wise to play it safe. He didn't know what
the old woman would do if she didn't like his answer, but he sure knew
what Avon would do to him. Thinking quickly, he came up with the only
safe answer he could, "Well, there was Cally. But she's dead."
Something sparked in the woman's eyes. "Dead?"
Vila could see Avon trying to signal him to stop this. "Oh, yes, very
dead," Vila said, emphasizing the finality.
"She was an Auron," Avon said, a note of desperation in his voice, "You
know how they are, kind, thoughtful. . . ."
Vila nodded, "And dead," he added helpfully.
The glint in the old woman's eyes seemed to grow brighter. "What, all of
them?"
"The whole planet,"
"Any family?"
"They're dead, too. Her sister died when we got away."
He could swear the old woman seemed to be salivating, "What happened to
her?"
"We were on the planet Terminal -"
"Terminal," the blonde murmured dreamily, "What was it like?"
"Awful, lots of explosions, man-eating snakes with triple jaws, killer
monsters -"
"Really?" she said wistfully.
Her tone threw him, but he nodded, "Really. And then Cally got trapped
in this exploding building. She never stood a chance."
"Don't tell me," the old woman said sourly, "Cur here didn't even go down
into it to check on how she was feeling."
Avon was signaling frantically, now. Vila wasn't sure what was going
wrong but he tried to fix it, "Oh, no, he went down. But he only found
out . . . well, Cally had never stood a chance."
Every woman in the room, even the little girl, was now looking at Avon as
though he were insane, "*Well?*" the said simultaneously.
"There were too many explosions," Somehow, this sounded like a weak
argument when Avon said it, "I had to get everyone to higher ground,"
"Right," Vila said, trying to back him up, "That's where we met Dorian.
I told you about him and his basement. Cally was supposed to be with us
when we got there. I mean, Dorian thought she'd be with us, and -"
The old woman was shaking her head, "Cur, Cur, Cur, what am I going to do
with you? I know what a soul sucking basement sounds like, but haven't
you ever heard of seizing the moment? No matter what you'd set up, did
you really think it would top that Terminal scenario?"
"She has a point, dear," the brunette said, "And spontaneity can be so
romantic,"
"Whether it would have been or not," Avon said icily, "It didn't happen.
It's too late know."
The old woman laughed, "Wanna bet? Morticia, leave the plate, I'm going
to go crank up the cauldron." Cackling, she went back down to the
basement.
The blonde sighed, "She's right. It did sound so romantic. Whatever
happened to Tynus?"
Vila, admiring her half-drowned beauty, said, "We had a fight with him.
He was electrocuted. Fried to a small crisp."
But it was the little girl who seemed interested in this implied story of
a deadly fight for survival, "I have an electric chair. Can you show me
what it was like?"
"Wednesday," Avon murmured, "Vila's a guest. Go electrocute one of your
brothers." The girl nodded and scampered off.
"Electrocute. . . ? Avon. . . ?" Vila began incredulously.
"Don't worry," Avon told him, "They'll survive,"
"That's right," the brunette assured him, "The only time Wednesday really
tried to kill one of her brothers was when the baby was born and she
thought we would have to get rid of one of the others to make room. Of
course, that's terribly silly. We would never do anything like that
these days."
Vila forced a faint laugh. "Avon, who are these people?" he said a bit
desperately.
Avon shrugged, "These are my sisters, Ophelia and Morticia. Morticia's
married." he added, probably noticing the look Vila gave Morticia as she
stood up. He didn't know married women were allowed to wear clothes like
that. Too bad. But Ophelia must be available.
"But didn't you have a brother?"
"I did," Avon admitted.
"We needed room," Ophelia murmured.
"You have no idea what kind of trouble you've caused," Avon went on.
"Me? That crazy woman would be after you for not dating Cally if I
hadn't told her she was dead."
"And you think knowing she's dead will stop her?"
"Well, it would have to, wouldn't it?"
Avon's eyes narrowed, "Vila, even you must have noticed - Don't you even
remember Gauda Prime at all?"
"Don't remind me. I hate being shot at. I'm amazed we got out of that
one in one piece,"
Avon seemed about to say something, then shook his head, apparently
giving up, "Some of us got out in more pieces than others," he said
obliquely. Still shaking his head, he went off, maybe to go help the
girl electrocute people.
This had to be a bad dream, Vila decided, as he drifted across the room.
The way the old woman talked, as if being dead wasn't a problem for
dating, as if it was just one of those things.
Reflecting on how unreal it all was, Vila never noticed as, pale and
insubstantial, he drifted through the couch where Avon had been sitting
just moments before.
________________________________________________________________
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------------------------------
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 09:36:03 -0500
From: "Doraleen McArthur" <d.mcarthur@worldnet.att.net>
To: <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Subject: Re: Nice Voice [was Re: [B7L] Headhunter]
Message-ID: <000401c044d2$58033500$3cf35a0c@oemcomputer>
Content-Type: text/plain;
charset="iso-8859-1"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
From: Harriet Monkhouse <101637.2064@compuserve.com>
To: <blakes7@lysator.liu.se>
Sent: Tuesday, October 31, 2000 7:03 PM
Subject: Nice Voice [was Re: [B7L] Headhunter]
Katie wrote:
>Oh, but I like "Voice From The Past" already.
> No blackmail needed there.
Excellent. Is that... three of us now? We could set up our own group
called something like "Speak up for the Past".
Have we asked you whether you like Jarriere yet?
Er, is he the fop from Gambit? If so, I'm pretty much neutral on
Jarriere, I'm afraid.
--Katie
--------------------------------
End of blakes7-d Digest V00 Issue #307
**************************************