Enemies of the state

In Watermouth again at ten last night after a nine-hour coach journey enlivened only by the Pakistani man in front of me crouched miserably on his seat being sick into a plastic bag, the contents of which then leaked out across the floor much to the muttered, eyes-averted disgust of an elderly couple opposite.

Jeremy and Lee had traveled down on Monday night but I didn’t call at Maynard Gardens. Lindsey was in when I got back to Westdorgan Road and she filled me in on all that’s happened while I was away.

Susie is preparing to leave for Germany on October 7th; Stu is still away; John Turney is in Greece (Shelley and her sister too); Barry’s band Enemies of the State (snigger) are preparing for their debut at the Chelsea on Friday—Jason is still with them, ego bigger than ever; Lindsey is still working at the housing office and the Admiral, and Barry works at the Frigate now. Del Caraway isn’t coming to Watermouth this autumn after all. He’s still convalescing at home in Milton Keynes. Gareth is still in Peterborough.

This afternoon I called round at Gaveston Street after meeting Lindsey at the Frigate and getting slightly drunk. Paula and Barry were playing chess when I knocked on the window.

Barry told me about the band, showed me the posters advertising their debut and he claims they may even get to support New Order when the latter play at Medusa’s. Ade called round later, and Jason too, and I left at 5.30 to walk on Stoneways Road to see if Mo was in; I walked all the way back when she wasn’t.

Lindsey says that Pete has written Mo a letter from Plotinus and that he and Guy and someone else from Watermouth are sticking together and grumbling about everything. I got back to Barry’s at 6.45 and he and I went to play pool in the Chelsea.

Jeremy and Lee called round after we’d got back; Lee says that Alex is back with a £400 fine hanging over him, which he must pay off at the rate of ten pounds a week. ‘My’ room is currently being occupied by the bald Belsenite and Gav’s brother. Oh, and Ian caught hepatitis in Marrakech.

Barry, Jeremy, Lee, Paula, Elaine and I met Lindsey in the Green Man at eight and went to the Chelsea for more pool. Jeremy seemed out of things and ill at ease, but he and L. came along to L.A.’s Roxy night and we all had big laughs at the phallic jugs and pictures of naked he-men generously displayed behind the bar, no doubt appearing very ‘provincial’ in our reactions. . . .