Transitions

I woke up today with a headache.

One of the girls who lived here over the summer called round for some of her stuff with the cheerful opinion that she wouldn’t want to live here during the winter as “the last couple of weeks, we were freezing.” Virtually none of the windows shut properly, and the only heating we have comes from electric bar fires, which are expensive to run. The last two gas and electric bills were £9 and £4.

It’s been an idle day. Pete has finally wrought some sort of order in his room. I rang Barry, and he’s coming down tomorrow with his friend Ade, who’ll be staying with us until he finds a place of his own. Their new band has worked out seven songs which Barry says are “brilliant.” Stu should be down in the next couple of days too. No one seems to have changed.

The drunkenness last night gave me the tiniest glimpse of how things were last term and how, no doubt, they soon shall be again. In the last few transitional days between one world and another, I’ve tried to analyse the state of mind and being which allowed me to slide into such a totally obsessive condition.

It seems hard to imagine at the moment: I keep thinking of Lee, who is a sort of link between my worlds, a stabilising figure who gives me a certain perspective on my life here and how it may develop.