Pathological desire

I intended on meeting Lee and Andy in Easterby at ten but I was woken up at half-past by Lee ringing from Queensgate. I was annoyed at myself because I wanted to look round the sales: I wasted the rest of the day in typical fashion, playing records, and doing nothing in particular.

I watched Close Encounters at 7.30 which was brilliant. We turned off the TV after it was finished because nothing could follow that and we spent the next hour talking, mainly about Robert, and stewing ourselves into a real depression. I’ve been thinking about my pathological desire to get drunk at every soiree around. My New Year's resolution must be to alter this. I deny myself something.

A big thaw is underway.