Peurile

First period was English. Giles told us to go away and read up on Philomen and Agamemnon, which I did in the library until about half-nine, when I went back into the common room to play dominoes for an hour or so. After dinner we all packed the library, grumbling about Ingham’s test last period. I tried to dissuade everyone from going, but they were all in two minds. Claire definitely wasn’t going. Everything got frantic, with people saying they weren’t going then changing their minds, until eventually Ingham came up and everyone left. For some reason Ingham didn’t see me, so there I stayed. Claire was in the toilet, so the two of us skived off. We were racked with guilt.

I played records all evening. Mum has gone to Robert’s straight from school to help with his moving; so Dad and I are on our own. I’m starting to feel really guilty about school work: knocking history like that, not handing in my Persuasion essay, etc. I’ve got my NEP essay to do for Monday, which’ll have to be done by tomorrow evening, because on Sunday Dad and I are helping Robert move and also picking up Mum.

When I come home I always feel so reflective, wistful almost, mulling over the day’s most trivial comments in my mind, wondering if I’d said the correct thing or not. I write all this puerile shit, yet it’s not as if any of it matters! When I’m at school, all the sentimental diarrhoea I write here seems so completely out of proportion. Do I figure at all?