Backlash

Del and John finally left for Bristol last night at half-past midnight. The collective chaos and disorganisation had become too much for them and they’re going to return in a fortnight. A mood of relief possessed us after they’d gone and now at last things can begin to settle into a routine and we can make a start on tidying this place up.

Yesterday was a bit of a failure work wise; after writing yesterday’s entry I went down to the cafeteria underneath the library and met Lindsey, Barry and Guy. Shelley turned up later too, but she now seems somehow distant and far-removed from our circle.

I suddenly felt very hungry, and so I persuaded Mo to come down to the Cellar with me for a baked potato. We met Guy and Barry again in the Cellar; they’d just been looking for a drummer. They were again full of the band and how good it’s going to be: “I want to make it the biggest thing on the planet,” says Guy, half-seriously.

Mo left after a little while but we decided to stay—Barry was in a bad mood and wanted to drink away his temper, so we did just that and got quite drunk. We found ourselves in the middle of a reggae disco; the DJ refused to play anything other than reggae or funk.

I bought a couple of LPs yesterday too, Backlash by Freddie Hubbard and an early Ornette Coleman trio LP, plus three singles—speaking of which, the last of the cheese went yesterday as well.

I didn’t get up until twelve this afternoon. The sun was streaming down from a clear and cold blue sky and Barry and Ade were already up and talking.

We met Roy last night in the Cellar; he had a dour, dumpy-looking girl in tow and was obviously at there for this one and only reason. My contempt for him was reaffirmed. Lindsey really sold herself cheap when she went out with him.