It’s 12.45am.
My No.1: ‘Preacher Man (12-inch Mix)’
– Fields of the Nephilim
Today I became a 17-year-old.
Happy
Birthday, Jez/Ritcherd!
Wooooh! Now to open a card. Wooo!
A card from Grandma Hall. And a card from Gran + Granddad Pritchard with 3 pounds enclose-ed!
ACE!
Another
card is opened and I’m raight chaffed, cos I didn’t get one off him last
year. It’s from Paul (my second dad) and I’m really glad we’re mates again. I can’t wait to see him. He’s sent me £20. I’ll have to write to him and say thanx. I’ll open Flash’s envelope ‘tomorrow’.
Oh
well. Here I am: Jez. 17 years old.
Well, not really, but I’ll definitely be 17 at about 2am. So.
Nite Nite.
A
graffito penis squirts a glob of spunk…
Later:
‘Bodies’
– The Sex Pistols.
Flash’s
letter was full o’ goodies.
At
Tech, Roger gave me a package full o’ goodies, too. Then, I went out and treated myself to the Sex Pistols’ Never Mind the Bollocks…
It’s
good. I’ve wanted it since 1985, when I first saw The Great Rock ‘N’ Roll Swindle
on Channel Four. After this, we got birthday pissed in the
park (Roger, Holly Blue, Luggage [almost mates again] and
me). Then I did an English Lit exam, [I
failed … just – Jez, December ‘87] whilst Roger got brayed by some
casuals. Bastards. Five onto one. I wouldn’t fucking dare…
Nigel popped in and gave me a package full o’ goodies also, but he told me
the Nephilim gig is off. We’re off to Norwich for the day instead.
At
home, I received loadsa post. It was
great; even cards from Saskia + Erica;
a letter from Nigel; and a card from the gorgeous Naomi.
Saskia
and Erica’s card had a painting of Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein monster
on it, holding a pink birthday cake with one candle (from ATHENA: ‘Birthday Beauty’ by Scott Wilson)…
‘It’s
the most morbid card we could find!
Sorry if it’s too bright!’
Saskia
wrote the lengthy letter inside, saying that they were going to make me a card,
but ‘couldn’t get the Christmas tree to stand straight’, ‘couldn’t find any
paper, only a Sainsbury’s carrier bag’ and ‘the felt tips didn’t write on the bag,
only smudged’. So they decided to buy me
the Frankenstein card, which cost them 70p (‘what a rip off’):
‘You
have no idea what we had to do to obtain 70p!’
They
claim they also made me a birthday cake.
‘OK,
so it wasn’t perfect, just a bit burnt, gooey and as heavy as a housebrick.’
But
it wouldn’t fit in the envelope, so they had to eat it. They also say they were going to buy me a
present, ‘but apart from the fact that we couldn’t think what to get you, we
didn’t have any money to buy it with’.
They finish off by saying that they now have to scrounge 18p off someone
to buy a stamp…
19
kisses, Saskia, that’s all I’m saying…
Okay,
here’s the list of people I got cards from:
George B; Grandma Hall; Paul (who hopes to see me soon); Betty + Freddie; Queenie; Lucille; Gran + Granddad Winterfood; Lou
+ Kev; Gran + Granddad Sugden; Grandma + Granddad Pritchard; Jack (who tells me I’ve got a spotty
nose!); Chip; Naomi Bell (who calls me a granddad!); Annie and Dad; Vi, Martin, Jeff, Kelly + Toyah; Flash (who wished me a ‘Dog’s Cock, etc.’); Astra Trellis; and Saskia + Theresa Markham.
Eighteen
cards in all.
Summer
is even more beautiful.
‘English Towns’ – The Stranglers
Naomi
rang tonite. I told her I’ll be in Norwich on Saturday. She said she was fucked off cos she’s going
to be out somewhere or other, but might see me around if she gets back
early. Honestly, gorgeous though she is,
it’s probably best if I steer clear of her and Alex as I would the plague…
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NEXT TIME: ‘Astral revelations…’
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