Wednesday, July 22, 1981


I played records most of the day, trying to recapture the mood from last night.

At seven, the ‘phone rang and it was Andrew, all the way from Copenhagen and clearer than when he rings from College. He spent five minutes telling me about the records he’s bought and he sounded fine. He even invited me across this summer, but I couldn’t accept because of my holiday with Grant. Perhaps next year? I put Mum on and he told her he was “in love” (a Danish girl I suppose). “I never thought it’d happen to me.” Mum was really pleased but somehow everything seemed sour and irritable when I came to bed.

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