Wednesday, October 3, 1984


Lee, Ian, and I spent the afternoon drifting aimlessly about Watermouth; at a junk shop I bought a PVC overcoat and a stuffed canary in a box.

Back at Maynard Gardens we degenerated into a frenzy of infantilism—screaming, stamping our feet and “giggling” as Ian put it.

In the evening, minus Ian, we were on our way to check out a potential squat on Sutton Road when we ran into John Turney who was coming up East Street. He overwhelmed us, swept us up and, almost unwillingly, we ended up in the Frigate. Lee slipped into bored silence. John suggested we go and “wind Barry up,” and as our earlier mood of mass hysteria was still affecting us, we were amenable.

So, after visiting an off-licence and buying a bottle of lemonade and vodka, we made our way to Broad Street.

The house appeared empty. We screamed loudly for Barry to come down for such a long time that the curtains next door began to twitch and we could see irate householder watching us and (no doubt) phoning the police. We waved goodbye and went back to try Gaveston Street, but that too was dark and deserted. Lee climbed in through an open window and we sat around in there for twenty minutes or so; for some reason, Turney pissed in a milk bottle and put washing up liquid in a can of beans. This was the pervading mood. He was enjoying himself, saying he hadn’t had a laugh like this for ages.

Back to Broad Street, taking with us a tricolour flag we’d found at Elaine and Paula’s.

The neighbour was further enraged, but we found Barry’s door open. For half-an-hour we created mayhem in the empty rooms, climbing up into the loft and running up and down the stairs. Turney was out of control; he kicked several big holes in the wall to add to the two put there at Z.’s party. We hung the flag from Barry’s window and then went to the Shelter and got pissed and went home, forgetting about all these events until an angry Z., with Barry and Jason in tow, woke Lee and I up at Maynard Gardens.

“I’m not leaving here until I get an answer” etc., etc., from Z.

He even threatened to call in the police. They left and came back again, and this time we told them it was Turney and they left to confront him. I later learned he’d stalled them for two hours, denying any knowledge of any holes and “getting them to apologise to me” as we heard later.

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