Same as yesterday, except I had my first Art ‘A’ level class at Farnshaw college today. The school time went off much as expected, uneventful and undistinguished, and English was as dry as ever. I got home at 2.40 p.m. and hung around restlessly until half-three, when I set off to go to the College.
Farnshaw College is situated behind Beatrice Hall in Moxthorpe, and is much bigger on the inside than you could imagine looking at it. Duncan Verity, Lee Hoy and Jeremy Beaumont were waiting for me by the steps when I arrived. Inside, large crowds of Vietnamese were sat around – whether they were something to do with the new school for refugees being set up near Knowlesbeck I don’t know. Room 3, the Art room, was situated just around the balcony which ran all the way around the Main Hall and looked down on like a gymnasium filled with chairs.
The room was quite small – smaller than I’d imagined – and most of the other 6th formers were already in, sat round a small table on which were positioned several lamps – oil lamps, Davy lamps, modern spot lamps and various other objects such as candlesticks. I took a seat and some paper and told the tutor that I was to be included on his list from now on. He gave me two books – a hardback, alternate lined-plain ‘note book’ and a superb sketch book which new would cost £3.00. I was a bit surprised to see everybody getting these, especially because of the cut-backs.
There were about 15-16 people there (plus five other Egley Grammar Schoolites excluding me), and the whole thing seemed so organized and everyone seemed so efficient and knowledgeable that for the first few minutes I sat there wondering what I’d let myself in for. I started a pencil drawing of the oil lamp, and although it wasn’t that brilliant it certainly wasn’t the worst there (and definitely not the best!). We were given some pretty sickening homework – cut out a painting from a magazine which you particularly like and prepare notes on why you like it for a short 5-minute talk on it, plus, do sketches of chimneys – I am dreading the talk already.
I played records for a bit but mostly watched television. Andrew went out to Geoff Marchbank’s (who has just come back from Jamaica with his girlfriend, Rosette) and at 10.20 I watched “The Greeks.”
Today was the tenth anniversary of Jimi Hendrix’s death (in the Samarkand Hotel, Notting Hill Gate).