Damn Forbidden Planet and their events. At first they seem so tempting, but eventually turn into occasions for soul searching and eventual disappointment. I looked forward in my sad little way to seeing James Marsters (Spike from Buffy) - booked the day off and everything - only to gradually persuade myself I would make a dick of myself, and what had I done to deserve the experience anyway, nothing, I was a pathetic worm not worthy of besmirtching his presence with my smudge of an existence.... etc. etc. As it was, the queue was phenomenal, I ran away and went to see Spiderman instead. But then kicked myself for the next three weeks. Idiot. (Eventually did go see him in the much less intimidating environment of his band's gig in Newport - won't mention the 6 hour detour on the way until I realised my driving friend was headed to the wrong Newport...) Pan