The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Tuesday, 8 December 1987

Amelia Dalle

At 8.10pm.


‘Being Cold’ – Strawberry Switchblade

I love this song.  It is beautiful.


I had another fever last nite.  Uncool.  Damn sad.





‘Jolene’ – Strawberry Switchblade

This is beautiful.


What’s goin’ down, kids?!


Well, cos I missed a lot o’ rehearsals last week, I am no longer in the play.  I’m not upset, either.  I don’t really feel UP to it.


Yeah, and my hee-haw is fuckin’ shit ‘n’ all.  I wish I’d never had the sides shaved now…


‘Flood I’ – The Sisters Of Mercy


My latest letter from Mary (who lives on Field Lane in Fakenham):


She wrote it at 10.35pm, whilst babysitting for one of her mum’s friend’s kids (Paul, 8, and Hannah, 5).  They’re in bed as she writes, so she’s bored with sod all to do and no one to talk to.  The telly’s on and she’s watching a film called Bye Bye, Mr Braverman, or something (and an advert featuring Batman and Robin).  She says it’s strange, but she hates being alone. 


Apparently she was moaning to Emma about it.  She reckons it’s because she just ends up worrying about stuff and depressing herself.  That said, she doesn’t mind being on her own in her own room at home. 


‘It’s different when you’ve got your things around you.’


Apparently she’s pissed off with Gemma, who was round earlier.  This is because Mary is trying to give up smoking and Gemma chose this evening to return a box of cigarettes she’s owed Mary for ages.  Mary managed to refuse them, but Gemma just sat and smoked them in front of her.  And now Gemma’s gone, she really needs a fag.  But if she gets through the weekend, she thinks she’ll kick it.


She tells me there’s a man on the telly talking to gravestones.  Apparently, Gemma’s dad’s an undertaker and he’s getting Mary a really nice jacket from a dead body that’s just come in.


Gemma’s also bought Cathy another skeleton for Christmas:


‘All 6 feet of him under our Christmas tree.’


Last Saturday, she apparently spent 2 ½ hours in the cemetery, just thinking and writing; trying to work out her feelings.  She didn’t come to any conclusions and was as confused as ever.  When she saw a load of old mates she felt even worse, because they knew ‘exactly where they were going, what they wanted, and seemed to be getting it’.  She got pissed that night.


Her mum reckons she’s too emotional for her own good.  She supposes she is, but says it’s practically impossible to change your personality. 


‘God, I really want to go home, drag Mungo (our big, fat, black cat) upstairs, put some music on (really soppy crap with memories, etc), sit in the dark, talk to the cat and have a good cry.’ 


She doesn’t know why and wants to snap out of it.  She tells me I’d better be at Tech ‘tomorrow’, because I cheer her up (‘like you managed today’).


The letter continues at 2.20pm the next day, at Tech after her practical Chemistry exam.  It’s 24 hours and 25 minutes since her last cigarette.  She’s excited that there’s only 1 week of Tech left and 3 weeks till Christmas.  For some unknown reason she got a yacht in her advent calendar (and a chocolate) today. 


‘Mmm, yum, yum.  So I’m a kid, but it gets you in the mood, doesn’t it?  Agree or I’ll kill you…’ 


Apparently they’re putting Christmas decorations up in her mobile (‘very festive’) and they were playing Christmassy records at dinner, like Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’ and Mary actually found herself singing along – ‘shock, horror and burst ear drums’.


She and her friends are going on a pubcrawl in Lynn on Wednesday or Thursday.


‘Both if Liza gets her way, but Emma, being her normal square self, is refusing to come.’ 


Mary wouldn’t miss it for anything…


She says she’s heard from Olivia that I’ve been ‘a naughty boy’ and that Frank Fontaine phoned me up.  Again.


She’s seeing her dad ‘tomorrow’ and hopes they’ll get on okay. 


She saves me a Polo.


I’ve spent a lot of time with Mary, who’s quite a nice girl.  But, nope, rather unusually, I don’t want to ask her out.


Naomi Bell: I don’t know how I feel about her, contrary to yesterday’s suggestion, but… I think we need to talk again.  It’s nearly 3 months since we communicated.  I have begun to compose a letter to send her.


As for the Election


HA-HA!  Taff Shayte on thee, Freüger, cos tha di’n’t gerrin.  So… feck you.  Olraeght? 


But Sammi got in, which is cool.


Roger really bugs me.  So do Blondie and that Tracey lass.  He went down the pub with ‘em today.  Justine knows about him and Blondie and all sorts of other stuff.  But Roger’s sworn her to secrecy – and she’s actually shut up!!!


Justine’s been nice.  I’ve liked her today. 


As for Graham, he’s an embarrassment.  He wants to go to NOORETCH with me next week.  Taff babber.  He’s too fucking embarrassing to bear.  I’ve got standards to maintain.  ASSHOLES TO HIM!


‘Tainted Love’ – Soft Cell


I’ve also spent some – in fact a real lot of – beautiful time with the girlfriend of an old acquaintance.  Do you remember Leon? 


Did I ever mention him? 


He was around when I started Tech?  J+MC fan?  He’s at Yarmouth College now.  Anyhow, his girlfriend, Amelia Dalle, is a mate of Anastasia (and Francesca) and used to be in my Elective group for Theatre/Movement/Dance/Vocal Expression.  I’ve known her, vaguely, for a bit.  She always looks pissed off, but we had some good laughs today.  I’m going to see The Canterbury Tales (which I was dropped from, or rather, kicked out of) with her tomorrow.  Cool, eh?


Oh.  I get the impression Hazel Church fancies me.  I DON’T fancy her, but… it’s… strange.  She is strange.


‘Visage’ – Visage



Do I really want a ‘biker’s jacket’ now it comes to it?  I want lots of belts and a definite crush velvet coat.  And a biker’s jacket?!  Erm…



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Next time: ‘The Canterbury Tales…’

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