Dad gave me a lift down into the centre of Farnshaw and I hung around aimlessly until everyone rolled up for the trip to Heber College. The bus took around twenty minutes to get there. We found the College easily enough and seated ourselves in a largish lecture hall that was filling rapidly, and by the time the lecture started about four hundred people had showed up.
The lecture, “The Origins of the Second World War,” was given by a Professor Lockwood, who was introduced by an identical double of Joseph Goebbels; the likeness was amazing. The lecture was boring in parts but quite helpful and it lasted until eleven or thereabouts, after which everyone queued for coffee and we decided to leave early. As we wandered through sunny Heber, Claire seemed especially guilty. We paused at a shop for some sausage rolls and cornish pasties and, later on, some chips, before wandering down toward the river to the swings and roundabout. We all behaved like big kids, rushing to and fro from swings to slide to see-saw and back, giggling and farting around like we were five-year olds. After half-an-hour of this we all felt sick and queasy, and sauntered back up towards the station where we caught the bus.
I felt queasy and warm on the bus back and by the time we got back to Farnshaw I felt awful and could've thrown up. Claire said I looked white. Made it back without spewing and walked on homewards with Claire, who invited me to her house (“but you can't stay for tea, today”). We had coffee and cake until I had to leave.
My evening was pretty faceless, on the whole.
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