Young-couple-with-car syndrome

This evening at seven I met Jeremy in the Beatrice Hotel in Farnshaw.

Gillian Wade turned up not long after, as did Deborah Blakey and boyfriend Tony; Tommy never quite managed it. Gillian is off to study Philosophy at Rummidge. She was OK this time, not trying so hard and thereby coming across more as herself. Deborah and Tony showed up late; they’d been to Fiona Abery’s wedding (she was in the year above us at school). Julie Crabtree is married now too, and Sharon Horsfield has a baby. . . .

It’s an odd thought, because we college-types remain in identical circumstances to two years ago and live below the official poverty line. Deborah and Tony are sliding irretrievably into marriage and the young-couple-with-car syndrome, all set for the next few years.

Being fairly intolerant these days, I couldn’t understand what D. finds attractive about T. He seems particularly dull and dead. I nipped to the off licence at nine to buy a bottle of whiskey for Jeremy and I as were going to Addie Williams’ party “somewhere in Egley,” and then the five of us drove to Keddon and the Copper Kettle before dropping Gillian off at home. Deborah gave Jeremy and I a lift back to Egley and we tried to find the party.

Jeremy’d lost the invite but remembered it was at No. 11, so we tried 11 Egley Rise, then 11 Briar Avenue. The rain began to fall and we splashed through the streets cursing the heavens and ourselves.

Terrible times.

After an hour of this we were soaked and no longer cared about the party; we wanted to get there merely on principle. We eventually gave up at about one and went back to my house and sat up talking in the front room until three.

I give up on Easterby.