Wednesday, July 9, 1980

Wednesday July 9th

Mum wished me Many Happy Returns when I got up. Sixteen. To think that I could get married now!

I got to school late and we had an assembly. The UI system had reverted back to Group A – 9.55-11.15 and Group B 11.25-1.00 so I wasted time sat talking and just sat in the common room. Today was so like all the other days that it is hardly worth mentioning – the first week went slowly but now that the novelty has worn off the days are racing by. I have this dreaded Oxford visit soon (next Tuesday), and since I’m not going in on Friday I’ll have to arrange everything with Vicky Miller tomorrow. I’m going to absolutely hate it. I don’t even know her to speak to and I can well imagine the long, strained silences on the train going down.

One thing that troubled me slightly when I analysed things was the fact that Oxford is a public school and I don’t agree with them There is no harm in looking round but I think if things came to the crunch I’d refuse to go. I reckon I’d be constantly having to live up to the place’s reputation.

During the late afternoon when I came home from school I read (well, flicked through) some of Dad’s Brontë books. I really can see how the Brontë’s have such a fascination for people – they have a sad life story.

During the evening, after discussing education/immigration/integration problems with Mum (and coming to the conclusion that the whole issue is unresolvable), a strange, literary passion developed.

I got a sudden urge to read every book and poem I could lay my hands on and I was stricken with enthusiasm for English Literature. I think the Brontë bug had bitten me because I felt really strange. The sisters had such short lives and I felt that they must have been really superb people. I can’t explain. It’s hopeless to even try but somehow I longed for them to be alive or just to find out more about them. This must seem like delirium to some but I felt really sorry for Charlotte especially when she had lost her sisters and brother within 8 months. I think it is sorrow I felt (and feel). I just can’t explain adequately.

Enough of my inane ramblings for today.

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