It's now three-thirty in the morning and I've just spent the last four hours sitting in the kitchen listening to tales of hitch-hiking and drunkenness. I feel like the new boy among so many old-hands. How sheltered I've been! One bloke (small and dark with round wire-rimmed glasses) had us all in fits as he told a long sardonic and unselfconscious tale about nude bathing.
I feel incredibly naïve.
Earlier today I went into Watermouth with Penny, who's opened up the rest of the kitchen for me. We bought food.
As soon as I got back I had to hole up in the library for three hours and read Bertrand Russell. I found a suitable passage to write about. I was surprised at how easy to read and understand he was, and he was very amusing in parts.
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