It was a nice day (saw the first wasp of the season), but I gradually started to feel trapped by the same old lethargic, can't-be-bothered feelings I had last holidays. I wallowed in self-pity, wanting to see someone but afraid of doing anything about it and wasting the day. So I just sat in my bedroom and messed about, reading my diary, listening to records, the usual thing. At teatime there was a programme on TV about TM, Rajneesh, Krishna, the Moonies . . . Quite appropriate perhaps?
In the evening I copied up Duncan's Art notes and watched Till Death US Do Part.