‘I Want Everything’ – The Godfathers
Willy!
Louise’s party was truly shit! The
music was good, namely Fields of the
Nephilim, but it was the only decent thing.
There were very few girls, no riots, no pranksters, no japesters, no
booze (except for private and personal supplies, jealously guarded) or nothing. So Simon,
Nigel and I left after a short
while, whilst all the other boring buggers stayed. That shit made Libby’s party look GOOD.
I
wouldn’t fucking dare have such a party.
Come
back, Valentine’s Day…
Simon
and I got back to Settledown at
about 3am this morning. We got in bed
and discussed a variety of things and then slept until about 9.30am, when his
dad brought us both a Kapotae. We then
both slept till about 11.30am, when we got up, read the ‘papers, and scoffed
beans on toast.
He
then drove me all the way home (approx. 30 miles) to my house – which I thought
was really good of him. He came in and
had a cup o’ tea and listened to some records ‘n’ some BTC stuff.
I
bet he thought my room was a rite jyp hole.
It certainly looks it – especially the ‘summer holiday ‘86’ remnants of
beer, hair gel and inter-galactic nob-juice on the carpet.
He
read Naomi’s letter and said it was
good. He left at about 2.15pm, borrowing
some BTC cassettes.
‘Hollow
Hills’ – Bauhaus
NICKI rang at about 3.30pm. She was
angry, asking things like, ‘So you do remember me, then?’
She
asked me if we should forget it.
I
said I wasn’t sure and that I wanted to sort things out.
She
didn’t like this and told me it was well and truly over. She said goodbye and put the phone down.
ABRUPT.
It’s
for the best, of course. Another failed Winterfood relationship. She wasn’t really the one for me. And distance didn’t help. I hope she’ll be my friend.
Naomi
helped me understand.
By
the way, it’s pissing down.
As
well as the rain, Pot Noodle is
being evicted and my brother Chip is
allergic to cows’ milk.
I’m
listening to Bauhaus. Cor!
Naomi. I will write to you tomorrow. And you, Flash.
WOW, GUYS! CHECK
IT OUT!
GOSH! GOLLY!
COR! YO-HO-HO!
Later:
‘The
London Boys’ – David Bowie
RITCHERD
RITCHERD
RITCHERD
RITCHERD
RITCHERD
Jezebel
IS
SHIT!
Ritcherd
Spindly, twisted fingers with freaky
nails, emerge from beneath a burgundy cloak…
A hideous, thick-necked man-beast
snarls, blood bursting from its simian nostrils and drool bubbling about its
fangs…
Later:
Simon
Nightingale has been very good to me, and I will never (can never) forget his
hospitality.
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NEXT TIME: ‘No Bells…’
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