The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Monday, 15 January 1990

Terminal Clown


‘Love Pains’ – Liza Minnelli

I’m a hopeless case.  Deplorably so.  Disastrously so.  And who the hell knows why?

We all know.  Of course we know.

And the problem stares me in the face, with her red, spiky hair and her embroidered skirt, her duffle coat.

That duffle coat: the source of wonderful warmth one December night, very late in the 1980s.

I’ll lose my whole self over her if I’m not careful.  I’ll be full of someone else and unable to cope on my own, unable to concentrate…

This beduffled problem absorbs me.

Only, I love this problem, this distraction.  And it could prove fatal to me on a personal level.

I took myself into town to purchase THE MISSION’s 10-inch box-set, and walked past her. 

She was with her friends.  She smiled, said ‘hello’, gesturing at my now bald chin.  She flashed me a grin and continued upon her way.

I just saw her now, in the Common Room.  I will speak with her later.  I hope.

In town, I wanted to buy her a gift, a token, a trinket.  Something.  Nothing.  I ended up with a blank ‘greeting’ card.  What do I put in it?  DO I MAKE MY FEELINGS CLEAR?  OR DO I AVOID TRANSPARENCY?


3pm, perhaps?

‘Not Now, James, We’re Busy’ – Pop Will Eat Itself


I walked from the Library straight into my problem and accompanied her to the Porter’s Lodge.  She is free-floating and sensual to my eyes.  Okay, so she’s clumsy, blind and stupid in reality.  So she reckons, anyway.  But she’s NOT unintelligent, not unfeeling.  I can’t see any wrong in this person, this furiously thrown together ramshackle being, this … this … I don’t know…  This conglomeration of something wonderful I’d like to LOVE.

We spoke and I felt too forceful, too forced.  I just didn’t want to do any more mincing warily around her.  I pressed the points of my words, but too far, too deep, too eager, too…

Oh no.  She must have been so put off by my strident, egotistical manner, and there’s me, standing there, feeling so feeble inside, projecting this … this … non-me; this false, forceful buffoon! 

We arranged to go into town for 2pm and ‘Damn!’ it came as a sharp, destroying pain when she came over at 1.30pm and changed her mind, choosing to remain with those pitiful, shallow, little friends of hers.

So I took her aside.

Far across the College and into an empty corridor, I gave her the card, now full of appreciations, flatteries and a kind of muffled love.  She read so far in front of me, then stopped, choosing to read the rest of it in the Common Room (with her friends close by!).  I’m glad, in a sense, though I hope none of her friends saw it. 

She came over to me a bit later when I was with TS2.  And I became ‘TERMINAL USELESS CLOWN’.  She said, ‘Thank you.  I am touched.’  And I just kept saying ‘Good’, painfully aware of all the shitty faces watching me.  Unsurprisingly, she seemed offended by my muted attitude and walked off.  I shouted after her, ‘Can I stay again?’  She said, ‘Yes’.  I yelled, ‘When?  When?’  But she left, saying she didn’t know.

And if I haven’t ruined it, then…  Oh.




So few
The silent moments
The time I need
With you
The failing motion
The deathly halt
Beats through
The ever quickening
Distance wastes
Between you
And I alone
In turmoil over



‘PWEI Is A Four Letter Word’ – Pop Will Eat Itself

Scene: Ritch has just walked with Lili all around College for no real reason

L: Oh, I’m sorry.  I’ve just dragged you all round college for no real reason.
R: Don’t worry.  You didn’t drag me all around college for no real reason.  I dragged me all around college for no real reason.

I’m thinking about misguided desire now…



‘I Can’t Say Goodnight’ – Liza Minnelli

Tomorrow, I’ve got to speak seriously with her.  Our conversation so often easily becomes superficial shit, forced, failing and falling on ears that seem to listen in diametrically opposite directions.

I will tell her what I feel.  Not write it, speak it.  At some point.  I’ll arrange a time to stay with her this week, before she finally leaves Tech – if that’s what she’s really planning on doing.  And then, when we’re alone in her room, I’ll tell her.  What words I’ll use, I have no idea.  What it will sound like, I do not know.  And without demanding any kind of relationship, I’ll just tell her, fully and clearly. 


I have a feeling that one day she’s going to tear my heart apart.

[Images subject to control of individual Copyright Holders including works originated by Elton Townend Jones, but excluding any images or design attributed to ‘The Situation’ which are copyright of The Situation (see specific acknowledgements in the ‘Thanks to…’section below) / ‘Berwin Groomstool’ is an iteration of the Situation character ‘William Whicker’ and falls under joint copyright of Elton Townend Jones and Waen Shepherd / Based on true events and designed as a study of parochial British cultural and emotional life in the late 20th century, this blog is a work of fiction – cultural icons excluded, all characters and incidents featured are entirely fictional / This blog is non-profit; all video clips are used for illustrative purposes and almost always come from YouTube / No copyright infringement is intended – just trying to get things into context. Never forget: no man is an island. If you think anything I’ve used is damaging you in any way, please comment and immediate action will be taken to minimise offence / This notice was amended on 1 July 2012 and is intended to cover this and all posts on that precede it]

Next time: ‘Broken hallway…’

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