The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Sunday, 17 June 1990

Owl Whispers


‘Yaaah’ – D-Shake

That’s the irony of life.  So bloody stupid!

Darren Marsh just rang (after a stressful, hectic week working at Campbell’s soup factory) to chat and stuff.  Now, when FRANKENSTEIN fell to pieces, I was more disappointed in him (angry too) than I was in the Frigid Spinsters for not being interested enough.  And yet, he’s still a really good mate and they’re a petty bunch of stupid bitches (Willock included) who’ve fallen out with me for good it seems.



‘Oh Well’ – Oh Well

Larry rang me again earlier.  He’s interested in doing a production of John O’Keeffe’s WILD OATS at The Cockpit in August (now doesn’t that play sound familiar?).  It would be performed by his youth theatre group (about 30 of them!) and he wants me to direct and produce it for him; if it’s viable and I’m available.  Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?  But I’m pretty sure I’ll be free…

Fergie rang too.  She’s fallen out with Barry, who’s now going out with one of her mates.  She’s also still involved in ongoing arguments with Mickey.

She’s so damn sexy, y’know.  I really want to do ‘interesting’ things with her…

Anyway, we might be going out this week, to Norwich.  Good.



‘The Hunter’ – Clannad

It’s been a problematic day, but I won’t go into the mundanities of it.

I just watched, in a row, ALL CREATURES, BLACKADDER, and WAR + REMEMBRANCE (the final chapter, which was excellent; what an epic).

I hope Flash CAN come and stay.

As I sit here in the dark night of Wisbech St Mary, I can hear, from across the empty fields outside, the hooting of an owl.  How splendid is this countryside.  Could one hear such things in the sad, brown, post-industrial grime of Castleford?  I doubt it.  Such beauty on my doorstep (though the smoke does smell nice in Cas during the autumn).

I’ve had some odd dreams lately.  Last night, I murdered someone.  When the police came to the house to investigate, the fear I felt for my own safety was unbearable.

The wind howls, the owl whispers…


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Next time: ‘Tooting the horn…’

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