Since I arrived in Watermouth the days have drifted by, marked by lethargy and inaction. I haven’t seen Lee since Monday although I was planning on going over to Old Priory Road this afternoon, but we didn’t get up until dinnertime and the rest of the day passed quite quickly, with Pete, Mo and I sitting about and achieving very little.
Mo is still looking for somewhere to live. Barry and Stu may well be here by tonight. We plan to decorate this place eventually and I’m not nearly so pissed off as I was about living here.
What a feeble maze of indecision I tread when away from Watermouth. I thought about Claire again today and it makes me angry at myself when I look back and realise how I let months go by without phoning her up.
What is the source of this unnatural—almost neurotic—fear that has hampered me all my life? Will it ever be battered out of me? What is it I’m scared of? I can’t answer: something to do with that old inability to judge between ‘too little’ and ‘too far.’
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