I got up at eleven o’clock. Nanna P.had already been brought so I was once again treated to Kenneth, Shirley, “our Nicky,” “Tracy” etc., until one when I went into Easterby with Dad.
We parked in Thomas street car park and I went down to Smith’s on Queensgate primarily to buy a box of chocolates or something for Claire. I ended up looking around the books again – I bought a copy of “Popular Archaeology” (December 1980) for 75 pence – it’s quite a good magazine and maybe I’ll start getting it regularly (I liked the article on Teotihuacan).
I wandered up to Cardigan Park after buying a 79 pence box of “After Eights,” and I was in the Shed by 2.25 p.m.
It was bitterly cold standing there and the game didn’t warm me up at all – pretty dull uninspiring stuff. Athletic once more had reverted to their crummy play. The first half ended after only a few shots at goal. Then, suddenly, I was surprised to see Robert and Carol approaching me; apparently they’d arrived just after kick-off after setting off at two o’clock. Carol was wearing her Hull Athletic scarf so there were the usual jibes at each other. The second half began horribly – suddenly I saw the ball bouncing past Hudson and into the net – I raised my arms because for an instant I forgot that Athletic had changed ends. An own goal! Three minutes later though, after intense pressure, Garside slammed in an ace shot from ten yards.
The scoreline stayed that way; 1-1, although the game was much more open after those goals. A draw was a fair result I think.
We got back to Egley at a few minutes past five. I started getting ready at six-fifteen or so and immediately couldn’t decide what to wear. Christ, I must have looked so vain!! There I was, taking shirts off, putting T-shirts on, and trying everything with everything else – I hated it. Eventually though I settled with my big, baggy, heavy woolen jumper.
I set off at about 6.50 p.m. with my box of “After Eights” in the pocket of my anorak. I regretted the decision on the way there and half-thought of chucking them over a garden wall. I decided to keep the pocket fastened and not say a thing about them.
I reached Claire’s at 7.20 or so; she answered the door and I was ushered into their living room where Deborah, Duncan, Linda Pearson, and the brother + parents sat. I sat, somewhat uneasily until eightish or thereabouts when Lee came. Claire looked very fetching – she had her hair all done up, braided and things (rather like Kate Bush’s) and it looked really nice.
We had a game of snooker (I’m abysmal) on their miniature snooker table for a while just as Lee came. It all started off a bit strained and Claire and Duncan played snooker (59-2) while Lee, Deborah and myself played Scrabble (Lee won). I was told about last night’s party at Michael Barnwell’s house (twelve people went) – Claire; “You know I like Michael” etc.,. They had prepared loads of food and had Babychams, Martini Rosé and Cinzano Bianco; everything. Her brother and sister went upstairs and stayed there all evening; drinking, apparently, and listening to music. Their brother was much as I had imagined him. Mr and Mrs Pearson went out to the pictures nearly straight away.
Things went like that really until eleven when their parents came back – long silence while father sat in arm chair grimly – but conversation once again when he went to bed.
I got a lift home at 11.30 by Mrs Pearson in their old Transit van. It was a case again of leaving just as I was getting into things and feeling more relaxed although I thought at one time about how our company differs from M. Barnwells + Tony Megsons. Deborah was saying how Claire was enjoying last night and how she didn’t want to go home and at one particularly dull point in the proceedings I suddenly thought; I bet she won’t be like that about tonight.
I enjoyed the evening – I ate a lot, talked quite a bit – although this bloody dual thing still rankles me (childishly).
Tomorrow I’ve got my Marxism essay to write up (well, read up as well).