Thursday, April 14, 1983


Lee called late-morning and we went down to school. He'd brought along a small advert for “New Corselettes” which he’d discovered in a grimy 1951 Sunday People found in a derelict house. He wanted to borrow school's epidiascope to enlarge the ad’ enough for him to draw over it. I helped him, blocking in the letters.

Mrs. Blakeborough was impressed with his lively and interesting photographs and she suggested he get into films. We saw Deborah briefly in the common room, but our conversation was awkward and embarrassed and filled with conspicuous silences. I told her that “this place never changes” and she replied, “No, and you never change either Paul.” Lee went to the careers balcony to finish with his drawing while I hung about listlessly in the common room before coming home.

There’s a hint of self-reproach linked to all of the above: Lee has his art, Grant his band and poetry. And me? All I have is this long narrative of uncertain quality and content. I’ll refrain from making the usual promises that will only embarrass me in the future and remind me of how superfluous and wasteful my existence was.

Deborah asked me if I was as depressed as last year and half-joked that she thought I was going to commit suicide. I forget the exact phrase of mine she used, but it had something to do with everything being meaningless. Last spring was a pretty low time for me at school with its unremitting round of blank tedium.

Lee picked his bike up from beside the garage at quarter past six having finished the drawing. I'd intended continuing with yesterday’s good progress today but I’ve done nothing; it’s now nearly ten and I’m waiting for The Fall session on John Peel.

Dad’s feeling fed up at the moment and says he’s “stalled” at being home day in, day out. It’s the first time I’ve really seen him express open dissatisfaction with his situation. It’s eight months since he finished with the police and he’s as far away from getting another job as ever. He rarely looks in the ‘papers anymore, and rarely even seems to give it a thought, although the other day he did ring up a woman about a gardening job, but he lacked the qualifications.

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