Saturday, November 28, 1981


The First Test from India was on the radio when I got downstairs: England struggling at 140+ for 8. Outside the sky was clear and cold and everything was bathed in bright sun.

I got a lift into Easterby from Mum and Dad who were on their way to pick up Nanna P. They dropped me at the library: I took back all my books unread and got out Thoreau’s Walden. I planned on doing so much in Easterby but inevitably I felt helpless and at a loss and so wandered aimlessly to and fro in streets seething with people. Crowds, crowds, crowds.

I went to Praxis and was a bit upset to see the “Save Praxis” posters in the window. I spent hours there and bought Junky by W. Burroughs and a copy of Freedom. I donated change to the shop, but it felt all wrong somehow, my cherished ideals not holding up exposed to this shop supposedly the centre of it all, and I emerged feeling disappointed, frustrated, depressed. If that’s the most I can get out of it. . . . I took refuge in HMV where I bought Pat Metheny Group’s American Garage which I’ll probably give to Andrew.

And that was how the highlight of my week passed. I felt incredibly down, with nowhere to go, no possible place to enjoy myself at all, nothing but frustration, anger and longing. How many other people are like me? Everyday I feel this way, unhappy and restless, whereas everyone else seems so content.

I met up with Tim and Peter and we trailed round being crude and childish and for once I felt OK and got home at four or so having frittered away my money on nothing.

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