Almost a drag

I spent the afternoon typing up a contract for the sub-letting, cobbling it together with wordy rhetoric I dreamed up and paragraphs copied from our original contract with Crown Racing. As I did this Susie and Shelley listened to Yvonne tell tales of nude night-time frolics in the sea.

Throughout the day, Guy kept asking me to go down to the coffee shop with him and pestered me with suggestions about what we are going to do in the evening. Now that Barry was gone it seems he's turned to me for succor. It was almost a drag at times.

In the evening we found ourselves in the bar with Shelley, Susie, Gareth and co. Guy annoyed S. and S. by rudely dismissing and ignoring them; Shelley, in low persuasive voice, cajoled me into going with she and Susie to Miles Beattie’s party in Watermouth.

Guy came along too.

We got a train to Wessex Road, then a taxi to the party at some forgotten address, where we passed the time sitting upstairs on the landing outside the toilet. I got a bit drunk. Downstairs in the kitchen I had a mock-fight with Mike Ritchie, attacking him with a plastic bottle & getting drenched in water.

I moaned and grumbled, feeling cold and sorry for myself. The way my mind works! I tramped the miles back to University in a gloom of despair and tender feelings.