Wednesday, May 18, 1983


A humid, sticky day and another day of inaction. Barry and I went down the library to do some work but we walked past it twice and couldn't bring ourselves to go in.

I went down to Westway Loop in the evening. Rowan told me that Katie thinks I'll never be married and that I’m a born loner, which she immediately corrected to “lonely." After this, Pete and I wandered over to Rousseau Hall to Gavin’s girlfriend’s room, which was packed out with people smoking by candle light. Pete bought some dope and we took it back to Wollstonecraft, to Tasha’s room upstairs.

I always feel slightly overawed by the prevailing self-confidence of Tasha and co. Her boyfriend Tim was there, as was tall, blond, witty John Cumberland of the Socialist Worker Student Organisation, along with Tasha’s friend Andrea, and Mo too. Double mattress on the floor, the room dark, walls cluttered with photos and postcards. It all seemed much more exciting than our pedestrian life downstairs, although we’re collectively known, in ironic honour of Pete, as the ‘Life in the Fast Lane Gang’.

As I sat there silent and listening I felt that this company was much more open to the things that interest me than our corridor - none of the  derisory put-downs towards art, and a much more adventurous spirit. Andrea has a round and honest face and a shock of wiry frizzled hair and reduced Tasha to hysterics as she held the stage with her tales, stories, jokes, and commentary.

Andrea told me that the Arts Centre runs courses on life drawing and pottery and that she's been down to the Art College and that they also run courses for non-students. “This place destroys any creativity,” she said. I inwardly promised myself I’d suss this out when Lee gets to Watermouth. If I leave before next November I could still get a grant, and over the past couple of days I've been fooling about with this idea more as a discussion point than in a  serious way. I think my fear of the adverse consequences (would I enjoy it more?), and also my natural aversion to any form of hassle will probably foreclose on any concrete pursuit of this idea.

Barry, Guy, Stu and Graeme showed up, joined later by Rowan; there was a distinct separation in the room between our lot and their lot. They were all in silent hysterics at Rowan’s comments and as soon as she'd left the room, they erupted into laughter and mimicry and right then I saw Rowan as everyone else sees her.

Several joints were passed round and we even played a game to relieve the heavy atmosphere that occasionally stole down on the room We left at four and I climbed gratefully into bed feeling absolutely dead beat.

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