Wednesday, September 8, 1982


I called in at school. The new sixth years number over a hundred, which makes things very crowded.

Just four people are back from our year: Deborah, Peter, Gary and Tracey. Deborah seemed pleased to see me and confessed to having “cried and cried” when she got her results, but now she's accepted it and seems cheerful. In loud incredulous voices Gary and Tracey demanded to know how I’d “dossed” all year and come up with two A's and two B's. I could only mumble sheepish comments about being amazed myself.

Deborah worried me by saying most people she's talked to have heard about their grants by now. I saw Mr. Ingham before leaving. He said I “look like a product of Watermouth University already.”

I handed in my notice at Tesco tonight and, as I'd half-expected, got back to find Andrew home from Denmark, laden down with records, T-shirts, posters, and festival programmes. He told me all about it: he should have kept a diary! There was a lot of laughter and we were both glad to see each other. It's the first time since April.

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