Just as important

We went for a fairly forgettable night out at Westway Loop Bar yesterday, and when we got back we hung around restlessly in the corridor. We could hear music and conversation coming from Rowan’s room, so I half-jokingly put a glass to Stu’s wall to try to hear what they were talking about. They sussed it out and this morning, a smirking Shelley subjected me to embarrassing questions: “You don’t approve of us cutting ourselves off do you? You can’t do without our company,” etc.

I looked at a few Emily Dickinson poems for today’s seminar but discovered, to my disappointment, that the rearranged time clashed with my Black Americans seminar. So I asked the tutor of the latter if I could leave early to go to the Dickinson seminar, but he nearly bit my head off. He told me, quite rightly I suppose, that his tutorials were “just as important” as Miriam’s.

I spent the evening in Pete’s room smoking dope while he entertained us with his motley collection of late-‘sixties psychedelia. A late night.