Overdrawn

We finally discovered what it was that Barry’s Dad was after.

Barry sat glumly in front of the TV wrapped in his sleeping bag watching the Milk Cup Final and told us that the bank had sent a letter to his home address telling him he's £500 overdrawn. His parents opened it and, outraged, contacted Watermouth police to tell him to get in touch immediately. When he did they told him that has to sell his synthesizer, bass, amps and effects, and that he'd get no more money from home until he’d paid the bank debt. He also got a letter from the University saying that he wouldn’t get a grant next year unless his marks improve dramatically. His parents were outraged about that too.

Pete and I walked to Jervis Terrace and made a start on the tidying, packing and washing up. Barry promised to help but never appeared so we spent the afternoon talking about his aimlessness since he threw over the RCP, his six months with several hundred quidsworth of decent equipment and not one ‘song’ actually completed by the much vaunted “band,” his wild rounds of socialising. . . . To get his grant next year he’ll have to work really hard from now until June, and I can’t see him doing it. I think that he’ll get thrown out.

Pete and I slogged all afternoon, but seemed to make little impression on the filth and chaos, so we went up to Westdorgan Road. Only Lindsey was in: we caught the bus into town to Castle Mount Court to meet Mo, and the four of us went to an Italian restaurant and spent £10 each on food and wine. I got pleasantly drunk in the pleasantly agreeable surroundings, and got home at one thirty to find Alex and Gav cold and hungry.