I went to school at 8.20 as normal and it was clear and sunny yet bitterly cold. First lesson was private study so everyone packed the library. Inevitably, I ended up talking once more with Deborah Blakey and Claire Pearson. Deborah said that last night, at about ten, Jeremy had rung her up to ask her why she was snubbing him – he was on the ‘phone for over an hour. He blamed it all on her and, she said, she ended up crying at the end. She told him that it was being done to show him that he cant do things to people and get away with it (hypocrisy, in other words). Claire came over and started telling Deborah about something – I was sat so close I couldn’t help but be drawn in.
She told me a bit more about this Michael, whom she wants to go out with I suspect (“What would you think if a girl asked you out?”- “I’d probably think she was a bit forward”) and I went to Biology at 9.55 a.m. feeling that same old feeling of jealousy and confusion.
During Biology it began to snow, the first snow of 1980/81 winter, and it became so heavy that it settled and was about a quarter of an inch deep. Everyone was out throwing snowballs. For the lesson we dissected rats; one each for all six of us. I found dissection much easier than I’d expected although the smell was a bit much. We had to string out the alimentary canal and remove the ribs to expose the heart and lungs. Mark Pittock’s rat was pregnant, and he had to remove all the bean-sized embryos.
At break, everyone seemed to be conversing with Jeremy again. I found we’re having bacon ribs on December 6th.
Triple Biology really is too much – I’ve been thinking lately more seriously about quitting it because the work load is immense; yet when I think I realise I’m not working to my full capacity at all and perhaps what’s motivating me to think like this are thoughts of unconnected things. I didn’t have a lunch and sat in the common room with the usuals.
Last period was History – it really is getting deep now (Blanquism etc.,) – and I went home in the bright sun, crunching through crisp snow.
My evening, so stereotyped again, went restlessly. Athletic’s match was cancelled because of the weather and I did absolutely nothing. There was a lot on the tele’ about the Strangler again; there hasn’t been a day go by lately without my thinking about him (it) and it seems to be reaching a climax – loads of activity, phone calls (hoaxes usually) and an air of expectant fear about generally. He threatened to do another tonight. I’ll find out whether he has or not tomorrow.
I’m going into Easterby again in the morning to go to the library. I intend buying Pearson a birthday card.