Question time

We had a slide show by a doctor about hospices and the terminally ill, and after this we went into the library until the snotty cows in the seventh year came in, majestically firing off criticisms before they’d even sat down. Gradually all the sixth years left and we all agreed that we disliked them intensely. Deborah, Duncan, Jeremy and I got involved in a long argument about what we are going to do post ‘A’ levels and Duncan called Jeremy and I “berserk and bizarre” when we said we wanted to cycle across the USA or India.

As we went down to lunch I suddenly thought about how boring and pointless everything is. Here I am fretting over what I say and do and worrying about other peoples’ views of me but really, for what reason? What do I hope to gain? Whatever happens I’ll still go on worrying. I just feel utterly pissed off with things.

Tommy came home with me and had a look at my cassette recorder. The drive-belt came off, so it now works but the quality of the recordings isn’t too good. I still don’t know whether to fork out £10.00. I had another of my frustrating do-nothing evenings again. I should be reading or writing - anything except farting around with a tape recorder recording Santana, Weather Report and Question Time, which is what I did.

Claire sounded subdued today. I can't stop thinking about her and Michael.