This was taken right before the curtain of "Trojan Women," which is not a porn flick, despite the title, but rather a Greek tragedy.  I played Talthybia.  This was taken in the spring of 2000.

So finally, now that she is a year out of College, Lyah's prom photo has been replaced by one I find a bit more appropriate.

This is at the Hereford Arms in South Kensington, my local while I was in London.  Lyah's introduction to wild Londinium was rather abridged - we only made it there for two days at the end of the Endless Expensive European Trek, details of which can be found here.  However, in those two days, we managed to hit Garlic and Shots (but of course!), the Hereford, the West End, the pub in Bayswater which used to be where criminals on the way to Tyburn would have their last meal, Parliament Street, Hyde Park, and the Tower of London.  Not too shabby.

This is Matt P., looking pensive while abusing his drumset in the studio of his band, Release.

Matt in performance, with his "I am a scarily intense rock star" face.

Maureen, with no eyes, and the Matt formerly known as her boyfriend.  Her hair has apparently calmed down a little since this was taken.  Maureen and I share the oldest in-jokes of anyone I know, including "like a tree trunk," "you look like Elmer Fudd," "peace in the middle East," "COCAMO" and something about kangaroos that I don't quite remember.

Me, with Mike's.  And a party hat.  

I don't have a joke here.

Moral: anybody named Matt is trouble.  Stay far away.

Me (far left) and Rachel and Anne-Marie.

Me and Kate at the pumpkin carving party.  We look very sweet and innocent for people who have just committed unspeakable acts of atrocity on squash.

L to R: Warren, Michele, Matt G., Andrew, Jillian, my head.

Highly atmospheric shot of me, taken by the light of the fire.

Matt G. and Michele, atop the fire tower.  Jillian took this one.  I was a big wuss and only went up three flights, though I did find a pair of robins and a dirty sweat sock whilst wandering 'round the woods.

Ah, the tranquility of nature.  So peaceful, so lovely.  Until you drop the lantern in the woods at night and get eaten by the bear.

The Tarts & Vicars theme allows for a certain amount of creative interpretation. 

That corset was so worth three quid.

This is black and white because I couldn't get it to be anything other than unnaturally red whenever I tried to scan it in with colour.  I look slightly Marlene-Dietrich-on-acid in this shot.  It works better if you could see the pinstriped trousers.

We definitely look hot enough to get hit on by confused lesbians at Cornwall's.

I love how it looks like she's practically balancing the phone booth on her ass.

When we're in Parliament, this is going to make somebody very rich.

And yes, immigrants can be MPs.  I looked it up.

Catherine.  In her natural environment.

Pumpkin martinis at Cornwall's.  Yummmmmyyyy ... expensive, but yummy.  As was the bartender.  Scottish.  And blond.  I've been there before, and I seem to recall it ended with things on fire, ill-advised phone calls to Edinburgh, and a lot of spilt tea.

Quarters.  I'll let you try and figure out what we used, in the absence of a shot glass.  I love Lyah's expression in this one.