Monday, July 9, 1984

Apart and unknown

A quiet day, with nothing outwardly separating it from a thousand other such days other than the inner knowledge that it’s my twentieth birthday. My teenage years gone. All that heartbreak and wrangling over nothing.

Mum and Dad gave me £10 and a shirt and Nanna P. £5. She is subdued and anxious, apparently worried about her impending X-ray results and still sickened by the theft of her £90.

I didn’t go out, and lounged around until Dad came back from work at two; I stayed in in the evening but rang Grant. We talked, but I hardly felt able to reach him I think, although we spoke of many things. I felt very apart and unknown.

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