Provisional

I was annoyed I didn't wake up until eleven thirty because I wanted to clog on with my revision. As a result, I didn’t get started properly until three or so, and I revised my notes on the 1905 revolution and the failure of the Provisional Government. I just hope I can remember it all. I trundled on, breaking off to read The Sunday Times or to eat, and Mum, Dad and NP went out for a run in the Dales. NP was dropped off home on the way back, and in the evening Andrew went out for a drink with Keith Patchett.

A typical, anonymous Sunday.

Forward!

I got up criminally late – twelve – and again spent much of the afternoon in my bedroom revising for History. I really got to grips with Trotsky, firmly fixing in my mind his activities until 1921, Inter-Borough Organisation, Vperyod, August Bloc etc.… I got quite enthusiastic about it all.

Andrew came back today. Dad picked him up at the station in the afternoon. Andrew's hair is much shorter, and it was good to see him again. He’s none too confident about this Denmark thing, and seems convinced it will all fall through. Everything pleasant, but this History test looms on the horizon and won't let me stop.

Athletic lost 1-2 at Ingleborough, Lewis scored first for Athletic, but Ingleborough equalised then went ahead immediately.

The prophet armed

I got up really late and by the time I’d got up and everything it was half-past eight. The weather was just like summer, collared doves cooing in the garden and birds singing all the way to school.

Mid-morning and quite out of the blue, Ingham came in to the common room and introduced me to Craig Bentley, who used to do History at Egley and is now doing a degree in Intellectual History at Watermouth. He was dressed pretty weirdly, in shabby maroon cords and a braided, military jacket and Ingham said I should talk with him about Watermouth. After making him some coffee, we went into the study area to talk. It’s so difficult conducting a conversation with someone you’ve never even met before but he seemed OK, and I got a few good interview tips from him. Mainly though, the ‘session’ consisted of several pretty heavy silences, awkward pauses and wooden exchanges. Fortunately, he did all the talking. It seems now that my line would be a course in Politics at Watermouth University.

As soon as I got back into the common room I was greeted by Duncan and Angela and their absolutely puerile, shitty little comments. I was so humiliated. At eleven Jeremy, Deborah, Duncan and I went down for our two hours extra art and I completed my comparative essay. After dinner I stayed in the common room talking to Claire about History or being slapped by Angela. Last period was History all about Trotsky’s contribution to the Soviet Union. We’ve got a pretty important test to revise for on Monday. I’ve also been delegated responsibility for Wednesday’s assembly.

In the evening Nanna P. came and I passed most of the time scouring through Deutscher’s The Prophet Armed and writing various essay plans for History. As I did so, I was gradually seized with enthusiasm for socialism. The details of the prerevolutionary Russian underground are fascinating and I’m eager to read more. Suitably inspired, I grabbed paper and an envelope and wrote a letter to the SPGB, enquiring about local discussion groups. Writing my letter I suddenly realised that “Dear Sir” implies an inherent, sexist attitude – “Comrade” would be better but sounds so contrived somehow – “Citizen”? “Fellow Socialist”? – "Dear fellow socialist” has it. Still clichéd but . . .?? It was interesting to compare SPGB articles on Trotsky and Lenin with the Deutscher biography and Basic Writings. Who at first appears heroic and admirable becomes treacherous and hypocritical.

Wheatfield with Co-op

I tried to finish an essay for Art comparing two paintings, Van Gogh’s Wheatfield with Cypresses and Hockney’s Mr. and Mrs. Ossie Clark and Percy. Claire was quiet, not saying much to anyone, and seemed bored somehow; she went home during the first lesson, saying something about not having done Mrs. Christopher’s homework. Trivial little jokes, silliness, puns and pseudo-witticisms reigned all day. Otherwise, not much to mention at all.

In the evening I wrote a letter to the Co-op inquiring about Saturday jobs. The Shuttle will be launched on Friday April 10th and will be live on ITV. I’m going to have to go home and watch it. No way am I missing that.

O Fortuna

In Bastow’s Tutorial we saw a video recording of Carl von Orffe’s Carmina Burana. Some of the scenes, I’m sure, were direct lifts from Hieronymous Bosch paintings. The music was a strange mixture of chants, stentorian tenors etc., and it had a good atmosphere. I sat next to Claire again. I like her, and it’s not something I can help.

Otherwise it was a pleasantly boring day at school. In English we discussed Shakespeare’s handling of death in Antony and Cleopatra and continued reading through Miller’s A View From The Bridge. I also had a careers interview with Ingham, and he gave me seven CRAC university degree course guides and said that in the next two months I should pin down a specific area or course of study. It’ll probably be political philosophy. He also gave me some addresses to write to about the possibility of working on a kibbutz in Israel after ‘A’ levels.

Andrew rang in the evening to tell Mum about his second year assessment, which was mainly ‘A’s and ‘B’s with a few ‘C’s and just one ‘D’. I could tell from Mum’s voice that he was in a good mood. He's also been selected to go on an eight week paid course to a studio in Denmark! I was really quite envious. Later, I watched Liverpool beat West Ham 2-1 in the League Cup Final Replay and also the Academy Awards, inbetween doing English homework.

I’ll probably read Trotsky before sleeping.