I was rudely awoken at eleven by the ‘phone. It was Lee telling me that Jeremy had discovered our little laxative plot. I must’ve been quite uncommunicative, for I was still half-asleep.
I got up at this point and Andrew was still in bed – Mum and Dad were at NB’s. I sat eating and listening to the radio and reading until 1.15 p.m, when Andrew finally got up. Mum and Dad got home at about half-past and the afternoon sped past, talking with Andrew, playing records, reading the paper and pretending to start my “Marxism” essay.
Outside the weather was blustery (gale warnings of 60-70 mph on the radio). An utterly tranquil and uneventful afternoon.
Andrew went to Keith Patchett’s at teatime and I observed five of ten minutes silence for John Lennon (along with a quarter of a million in New York’s Central Park) before having my hair washed and having a bath. I watched “Everyman,” all about Latin America’s revolutionary movements and Nicaragua in particular – I was fascinated by the whole idea. I’d really enjoy a “politics” course at university. There was something about all those people chanting with raised clenched fists. I must read all the ideas involved.
I began my essay at nine-thirty or so downstairs and after coming to bed at eleven I finished it finally at two o’clock. It is now 02.17 on Monday.
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