Things were getting into some sort of a swing as regards my revision. I had completed an essay for Industrial Studies and managed some revision of the subject too. I forgot to say “White Rabbits” immediately after waking up, so I supposed that I was / am superstitious. In other, seemingly interesting, news (well I wrote it in my diary) my (Mum’s) cousin and her boyfriend called. They did things like that, you know.
I love this diary entry, it encapsulates the time and my vulnerability beautifully. The Wednesday afternoon Sixth Form rugby match had long since been a ritual that I had not been enjoying, but today of all days things were summed up to a tee. The team won: hurray! Did I contribute to the victory? No, I did not. My place at loose- (though it may have been tight-) head prop had gone to a young usurper or tyrant to use the true meaning of that word. Fair play to him, he wasn’t the problem, he was almost apologetic at playing in the team ahead of me. No, the problem was in my head. My chronic lack of self-confidence was once again coming home to roost along with a stubborn, procrastinatory streak which meant that there was no way that I would bother to do what was needed (lose a few pounds, sharpen up my pace) to get back into the team. Still, I was able to get home for 5:30 – just in time for Neighbours.
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.
So it was Friday again. We were informed of a Physics tyest next week and apparently, Maths was interesting question mark exclamation mark. I didn’t record anything else, other than to report that I watched Friday Night Live. We were now up to show 3 of the ten show run.
So the weekend was here and that could mean only one thing. Yep, you guessed it! Football. This weekend I atended Shrewsbury Town 0-0 Milwall. In the context of things, this was a great point for Town. The Londoners were the eventual winners of the second division although this draw and Aston Villa’s 2-1 win at Bournemouth saw the Villa stretch their lead at the top of the table to seven points. In the first division, Liverpool’s 1-0 win at QPR saw their lead standing at 17 points. In the evening I watched Jasper Carrott – it was very funny (what a review!) and sadly, the last episode of the 2nd of 3 series of his Carrott Confidential show.
Well today was Sunday so this morning, I must have done my papers and collected the money. I also engaged in a little rain dodging as we did experience some precipitation – but not too much. In the afternoon, it was time for me to watch Arsenal defeat Spurs 2-1.
Grief, I really was an angry young man – only during the week mind – today the object of my ire was another lad who for some reason I didn’t like. My description of him is an interesting one. Two thirds of it (!) would also have fitted perfectly for me too – funny, but the irony was completely lost on me at the time.
I called him an ‘ugly tw*t’ and a ‘parasite with no real mates.’ He did have a key ring that would emit a bleeping sound if you whistled. An altogether useful piece of kit if you, like, lost your keys. Of course in the hands (surely lips) of 18 year old demi-men such as us, it was an open invitation for us to whistle constantly until he got so fed up and took the batteries out. For my money this is a piece of kit that would become increasingly useful for me as I am getting older and suffering from, ahem, senior moments.
In entertainment news, tonight was time for another slice of life on the deep space mining craft Red Dwarf. By now we were onto the fourth episode and it had established itself as a comedy classic. It was, I wrote, ‘just like the Young Ones used to be – extremely funny.’ Wow! Rare praise.
You know that for an 18-year old I could be really quite childish. For no other reason than I felt like it, the first two words for today’s entry are a totally pointless and scurrilous jibe at my brother. In short – ‘A____ smells.’ Well I’m glad that I got that off my chest – and I’ll bet that you are too.
I then proceeded to mix international politics (see I told you that I had done the wrong A Levels!) with some local and very personal issues. I noted that it was Super Tuesday in the USA and then it was the familiar refrain I am afraid. I complained that I ‘left college at 4:10 cause I didn’t fancy waiting at the bus stop whilst being ignored.’ I topped this off with a fluffy, frothy, ‘G’nite.’
Well whaddaya know? That there George Bush, Sr went and won ‘most’ of the Super Tuesday states. I guess that he must have been a shoe in for the Republican nomination by now.
In other, end of term / demob happy news, us sixth formers played a mixed game of rugby this afternoon. Mixed I hear you say? Why yes, mixed. A mixture of rugby players and football players. It was a bit crap to be brutally honest. Brutal being the operative adjective (if a describing word can be operative, but you get my drift). The footballers seemed minded only to take the opportunity to rough things up in the scrums – apparently it’s fair game in rugby… or at least that was their excuse.
Sorry for this, but I reported today was a boring day.
Thursday this week didn’t get off the ground. We had a fire drill at sixth form and I had a driving lesson which was by all accounts (well by my account and the only one that counts) OK.