Doomed

The thought of the term ahead still fills me with weariness, and this is because I now realise wrong choices and past mistakes, and know that it won’t go away for as long as I’m at the University.

I missed my first tutorial of the term today (Conflict and Community with Ian Pugh), but feel remorse only when I think of Mum and Dad’s naïve trust that I’m pursuing my “studies” with a vigour and reward I know I can never muster. I also feel sad that I’m squandering their money—£400 already this year. Doomed.

I promised to go to Calverdale for a week with them in May. At times of mental crisis and EMPTINESS like this I discover a kind of solace in the pleasures of the past.

I went to see Marc Riley and The Creepers with Stu at the Lancaster. They were supported by UT—talentless thrash—and they played aggressive hard Fall-type songs. Riley himself sang and reminded me a great deal of Barry’s friend Patrick—he has the same youthful face and dry Manchester accent.