Sunday, March 6, 1983

Hairstyles and hostile looks

After the football yesterday everyone was in a fever of preparation for going out: Penny and Lindsey were headed to Susie’s party in Watermouth and Rowan and co. to a party in New Lycroft. There were many options open to us, but we didn’t really fancy dealing with all of Susie's trendy acquaintances with their hairstyles and hostile looks. I felt very bleak.

Everyone left and I had a bath and then Barry, Gareth and I decided, more as a matter of pride than anything else, that we just couldn’t be collapsed in our rooms not having done anything when everyone got back. So, on the spur-of-the-moment, we decided to go into Watermouth to buy a bottle of whisky & then come back.

We got off the train at Wessex Road and trailed about for ages looking for an off-licence that was open. Eventually, with only ten minutes left until closing time, we went and bought a £9 bottle of whisky from the Bellemoor opposite the Art College. We went and sat across the road on a bench and began to drink the bottle, our backs to the traffic and noise and lights of pub closing, scarcely a glance in our direction from the occasional couple who passed us by.

We got rid of most of the bottle in quick time and finished the last ¼ off as we walked in search of food, passing it between the three of us as we strode down the street. It was a very drunk and rollicking journey, and we threw caution to the winds as we stumbled along in fits of laughter, falling over, even hatching a semi-serious plan to smash the window of an off-licence that fronted onto busy Wessex Road and legging it away with scotch and champagne.

Even the ludicrous and impossible seems feasible when under the influence. I really thought we had a chance.

We had Chinese take away near the station and ate it sitting on a wall next door, spilling most of it over Barry as he sat with the box of food on his knees. We had nearly an hour to wait in the dark and deserted station: I ran to and fro across the tracks while Barry shinned up a lamp post, a feat which I’d bet him £20 he couldn’t do.

At long last the train pulled up, packed with people coming back from Susie’s party and we all ran back through campus from the station, even wrestling on the floor over a packet of cold chips that Lindsey had given me as we rushed past. All-in-all, a pretty good evening. I crashed out at five.

I got up at midday today and I’ve done nothing, but for once I feel fairly content with myself and the world.

Easter, family, and Easterby loom.

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