Sunday, June 14, 1981


I hate it when Dad’s on nights. The house is plunged into brooding silence and I can’t do a thing for fear of waking him up, so today I just sat in total boredom reading the ‘papers.

When I was younger I couldn’t really comprehend that other people thought like I did or saw things like me. And now I have high flown ideas about changing the world and perhaps the way I write this journal is with a constant eye on the future, yet other people get three ‘A’ levels (with good grades too) and here I am struggling. It’s all because of laziness. I must start revising. I really do pose as an intellectual and just use this journal as a justification for my hypocrisy and neurosis.

I started on my Persuasion chapter summaries as revision, but Duncan rang and so I ended up getting a lift on to Lodgehill from Dad where I met Wiechec and exchanged my £8.50 for the rucksack. Then we went to the park, played bowls, and generally had a doss about. I met Trevor Buxton on the bus home; he's still as cool as ever.

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