Ecclesiologist

A dismal, damp day. I stayed at Lee’s overnight and we went into University to try find copies of The Ecclesiologist magazine for 1844, for Lee’s essay on Victorian graveyard iconography, but we were unsuccessful. L. soon lapsed into yawns and bored fidgeting; his boredom threshold is very low as he himself admits.

I can’t wait to get away from Watermouth, for a change of routine mainly. I’m bored down here now, and once I realised how near the end of term is, I feel like I want it out of the way and settled. Lee and I are hitching back on Friday morning.

Everyone else, apart from Mo as far as I know, is staying down in Watermouth. Lindsey called round today but I was out at Lee’s.

John has finally moved out to his bedsit at White Deer Park and Del, who’s been trying to get fixed up with a place too, has gone back to Milton Keynes to read up for his forthcoming interview for a place at London University to do Philosophy. I like Del a lot; we’ve had some good laughs since he came down this last time.