I got my report, a 3 from Miriam and a 3 / 4 from Coates. Disappointing. I felt very subdued all day. Most other people got 2s and 3s. Shelley got two 2s and was beaming: “He said I could’ve got two 1s.”
After soccer outside, Pete and I went to see Cheryl and Cathy (our sub-letters), and sorted out the details. They both gave us cheques for £64.
In the evening, while a few people went over to Westdorgan Park to watch a Dramatic Society performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Stu and I went to Rousseau in search of acid. Nothing doing, but later we went back with Gareth to get some STP: again, no luck.
Eventually though, we scrounged a tab from someone, drew lots to decide who’d take it, and I won. Stu and I downed half-a-tab each and he promptly fell asleep, so I went and laid on my bed. When I woke up a few hours later, Stu had taken another half-a-tab and sat in Gareth’s room in speechless silence. He was going through what I’d gone through with Pete and then Patrick and co.: self-consciousness verging on paranoia, and blurted, stumbling sentences.
I went back to bed.
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