I went to the match with Rob and Carol and saw Athletic lose 0-5 against a very good Whitstall Park team. We had a pint in the Hanson Arms beforehand. Rob and Carol stayed until dark and C. drove back across the moors to Saxton.
In the evening I typed out an account of our trips to Borley Church. No work attempted. I’ve been dreaming vividly—Lindsey, Claire, arguments with Dad. I wake up feeling scared about the lack of time I’ve allowed myself to do my extended essay.
I’m in a headlong plunge toward the new term and the third year at Watermouth and soon I’ll be without free time, without time to think or relax, in a very similar position to the one I was in just before my ‘A’ levels.
I have the same intimations of disaster, only this time I don’t think I’ll get away with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment