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Theme last Friday was Eros. Tony corrected an impression that the archer of Piccadilly was that demi-god of anguished passion; in fact, it is his happier sibling of requited love, Anteros. Either way, the evening was fanned by the wings of the erotic. Malcolm emerged out of customary voyeurism to begin with Maureen Duffy, and Charley carried on with another MD, poet found on the net. Further people arrived, and Leila read a new passage from her Cuban stories, Breathe; then the energetic Lisa Luxx radiated an eco-sexual glow experienced in Yosemite and environs. Emanuele evoked post-Catholic algolagnia with his 'Sul mio altare', in both Italian and translation, and the evening caught fire not least when Charlotte recited a passage of poetic prose by Clarice Lispector. This prompted Naomi to offer her own favourite Lispector quotation, which was duly chalked up on the club's outer wall. Keleigh was original as ever - 'carnivorous beast' - and a panther or two lurked. 'This is how we run' came a refrain from half-Persian Zoya; at last Kelly arose to share the gorgeous 'Blue' by May Swenson. Coda came from behind the bar, Seki's 'Show Me Your Evil' - shadowy, sensual, menacing. Now comes the season for remembering all souls, so let's have a theme for this coming Friday be


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