Thursday 3 March 1988

Oh no!  This is an angry diary entry.  And yet it also touches on my romantic yet ultimately unrequited side.  Anyway, what was all the fuss about?  Well, I was expressing my extreme dissatisfaction with a former school friend, who apparently, had stopped talking to me.  When I think back now on this young shaver, I think that I can see exactly where he was coming from on this matter.  All through secondary school I had a strange sort of relationship with him.  We were pretty much equals in terms of academic ability and therefore spent many lessons sat together although he was mostly the butt of my jokes.  Jokes, it has to be said, that were due more to my insecurity than anything on his part.

He introduced me to U2, I think it was War that he lent me.  I remember buying The Unforgettable Fire and returning the favour.  But that was in much more innocent times, now we were moving in a different circle.  He had made the confession to me that he was going to change whilst at Sixth Form, to expand his horizons and generally grow up.  I remember that he got into The Clash at this time.  I on the other hand was rooted in some sort of timewarp, expecting things to be just like they were in the latter (happy) years at secondary school, you know once I had got over being picked on – a black period which lasted pretty much for the whole of my second year there (circa September 1982 to July 1983).  He was also involved in the great “Sorry I Can’t Serve You” debacle at the Sixth Form Disco way back in September 1986.  But enough!  I digress.  Things were changing, something that I was struggling to accept; he, on the other hand, was embracing change and learning how to be himself going forward.

In the romantic part of the diary entry I noted that I was so very close to telling the object of my Valentine’s Day desires who it was that had sent her the card.  I reasoned that ‘she can only react badly at worst?  At best who knows…’  As you might just have guessed, I didn’t tell her.

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