Sunday, June 26, 1983

Profane illuminations

I woke up in a better mood. The sun streamed through the window and the net curtains blew gently in the breeze, putting us all in a lighter frame of mind.

We bought cleaning supplies and scrubbed the flat down. I cleaned the cooker which was ingrained with thick brown grease; Guy scrubbed the kitchen floor; Mo did the landing. I also cleaned the toilet. The whole flat smelled much fresher after we’d done.

The more we cleaned the more angry I got at the previous occupants.

We were eating—sat around the table, all very civilized—when Cheryl and Cathy turned up with parents and a car-load of stuff. We’d dreaded this encounter, fearing they were sure to be very disappointed with the place, but they didn’t seem too repulsed by the chaos and dirt. They piled up all their stuff in the hallway and left, saying they’d sleep on campus tonight.

Barry and Guy drove to an off-licence in the evening and we sat out by the front door in front of the Crown Racing window, drinking and talking until it was nearly dark. We managed to fuse the lights putting in a light bulb in the hallway fitting, so we retired to bed in candle-light.

Guy and Barry laughingly reminisced about school days while I lay quietly thinking.

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