It was pleasant at school. Hirst was holding a lesson for her other class outside so Jeremy and I dropped in, and as we wandered away Gillian Pugh, Halina and Laura swept round the bus-turning circle in the former’s car. Within minutes we were driving in almost unbearable heat towards Moxthorpe.
We dropped Halina off and Gillian drove us to her house, which is a huge mansion-like place up near Briar Avenue. We went in, she borrowed £10, and we piled into the car again and called at The Rising Sun, where I had a pint of cider. Gillian seems like a nice person. She's quiet and well-spoken but confesses she “hates” her life of rich parents and cocktail parties. We talked about Christiane F and some foreign film about gays before cramming into the car and heading back to school.
I saw a man on TV claim that the ‘Lord Christ Maitreya’ will reveal himself to the world by telepathy at the end of next month. He was so utterly convinced of this it was almost frightening.
Dad got home at 10 and seems optimistic about his chances after his job interview (warden and environmental officer for Liphill estate), but he's apprehensive and unsure of his ability to cope.
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