Sunday, January 31, 1982


I woke up lying fully clothed on the mattress in Andrew's room. The flat was in chaos, the kitchen floor covered in broken glass and bottle tops, everything sticky.

We spent the morning listening to records and Andrew cleaned up and when the others showed their faces at eleven-thirty, we grabbed two slices of cheese on toast and piled into Jim’s Renault for the drive into Badon.

We got there in plenty of time and I said goodbye to Andrew. The bus station bright and sunny and I felt sad again, a young couple kissing goodbye under my window. . . . Journeys, the people you see on the way and never know their names, will never ever meet them again. Anonymous beings.

The hot sun and slow bus caused nausea at Nunningley and at one point I almost thought I was going to throw up. Luckily the skies were cloudy and cool by the time I got onto the Reddings-Easterby bus and we all roared out of the ‘bus station at three like before.

We pulled into Holdsworth Square Station at quarter to ten.

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