Firstly though, was school. I could draw up a timetable of a typical school day, and each day would be virtually a rerun of that timetable: I get to school late, at about 8.40 a.m. and usually stand in the registration room, talking or being threatened by Darren Busfield.
Then, unless we have History or something first (in which case the situation is reversed), I go up into the 6th-form library along with Jeremy Beaumont, Duncan Verity, Lee Hoy, Deborah Blakey, Richard Houlding, Tommy Whelan etc.., with whom I talk. I suppose strictly the library is for working, although we use it as a kind of watering place, where we generally doss about (That is why the seventh form don’t like us). We have a pretence of reading, although generally we just talk, laugh, criticise and abuse (verbally) each other.
At 12.00, I normally go down into the Dining Hall where we all sit at a table, no doubt looking very pally
This evening I had my Art course so I stayed at school messing around on the computer terminal with Quinn, before setting off to Moxthorpe. We had a lecture today, a series of 72 slides of “visually interesting” images which Mr Hine called either “exciting” or something similarly exaggerated.
Most of my evening went struggling over the Biology essays, before downing everything for “The Greeks.” Since it was the last programme of the four, it was concerned with summing up. Again I was spurred to rush down to the Main Library to get every book on Greek philosophy available and I started actually looking forward to presenting my argument against religion on Monday. I was particularly taken with the quote, done very dramatically right at the end against a backdrop of solar flares about the “question before us is no ordinary question. It is – how should Men live?”