Thursday, January 29, 1981
I stayed at home today because I felt the same as yesterday, dizzy whenever I moved my head quickly. So I stayed in bed and didn’t get up until twelve. I didn’t do a thing all day—played records mainly. Lee, Richard and Tommy called round after school and stayed for twenty minutes before going on to Art College. I’m still kicking myself about Tuesday evening. What will Claire think of me? That I’m bad mannered, discourteous and thoughtless, no doubt. I keep thinking about school; I don’t enjoy staying home because I miss the company too much. I will probably go in tomorrow but I’m not relishing that predictable, pervasive melancholy that afflicts everyone and everything. If only we didn’t get so bored!
Last night I read Portraits of Russian Personalities. I completed the chapter on Nikitenko and I’m half-way through the section on the “aristocratic anarchist” Michael Bakunin.