Not tragedy

I was woken up early by the porter Doris: I’d lost my bank card the other day without even realising it and someone had handed it in.

And all of this comes on top of my continued agonies over Lindsey. These aren’t so bad now but I hardly see her at all now, perhaps three or four instances since Sunday. We're avoiding each other to avoid any embarrassment. I saw her this morning to borrow a teabag and she didn’t look at me.

I had a talk with Rowan the other day. She says what's happened to me “is not a tragedy” and isn’t worth getting upset about. Susie had a long talk with me, trying to set everything straight, and said that she’s told Lindsey about what had happened. Lindsey had no idea how badly I’ve felt about her and doesn’t want me to be upset. Apparently she didn’t want to go to Biko’s with Roy on Sunday because she “does have some concern for your feelings.”

It’s now late afternoon. Shelley is asleep on my bed. I’ve just tried to read Henry James with heavy mind and half a heart. I’ll never do it. I feel guilty that Mum and Dad are forsaking pleasures to keep me here and that I don’t use my time profitably.

Rowan has been in Shelley’s room all day, in a very bad way, and desperately sorry for what she did. Shelley says she's scared to face anyone here. She wants to talk to Barry and I about why she did it. She also told Shelley that she will go see someone about her problems. She's obviously haunted.

Barry has gone down to the library for the afternoon. He came back from London on Monday evening feeling very pissed off because he lost his wallet. The corridor is deathly quiet.

10.20 p.m.: I’ve taken methedrine so I can work all night but so far it isn’t having the great effects Barry seems to be experiencing; slight exhiliration in my body but my eyes are still heavy. Nothing else. I came back from the library, had a quick drink, and Lindsey and Susie came and sat in my room: Susie soon disappeared to tell Gareth about the new flat she and Lindsey have rented. I desperately wanted to talk to Lindsey but just as I’d plucked up enough courage to speak Shelley and then Graeme came in. Even though I willed them to go away they just wouldn’t. I was bursting to say something.

11.05 p.m.: This methedrine is actually quite good. It’s subtle and less ‘crude’ and punchy than speed, a much “smoother ride,’ although on reflection this lack of punch makes it less effective and less memorable than amphetamines.