CHRISTMAS EVE 1990
‘White Christmas’ – Bing Crosby
Today, after saying farewell to the Badcocks, I met Polly in King’s Lynn. She wore a black top, huge overall/dungarees and some brilliant black patent leather DMs.
To me, the day was fine, and started of brilliantly with the constant holding of hands. We had several coffee shop visits, but by 2pm she had to go. I got a bit down about that, I’ll admit. I really like her company. She’s so bright and chatty and full of enthusiasm and gosh I fancy her.
My bus came first, and as I went for it we kissed (the only time today).
But now I’m full of doubts and worries. Concerned. I feel as if I was probably dull and boring and shit all day and that maybe she didn’t care very much for me. I’m actually really scared that she might not be interested – and I need her to be.
God! All I ask is that someone one day loves me as much as I love them, please.
‘Mistletoe and Wine’ – Cliff Richard
I’ll ring her tomorrow. The nightmare will begin if it becomes a lethargic phone call and then she tries to get out of seeing me. But then, to cap it all, even if it goes well – and I fancy her so much so I really would like it to – she still goes back to Leeds in the new year.
I want to say to her: ‘Look, shall we really go for this, or should we finish it now before we get hurt?’ I guess if she opted to finish it then we could still remain good and new friends. If she’s not bothered about jumping in with both feet – and I’d love us both to be – then it’d go downhill pretty quickly I think. But, please, no. I love her company so much – we really clicked. I want this to go on and on for as long as we can keep it going. She’s also one of the most attractive and sexy people I’ve ever fallen for. I’d love to be able to go and stay with her in Leeds. Not like it’s a new city to me, is it? I want to lie with her, entwined in her nakedness, our bodies in bliss together. A beautiful embrace.
I almost feel that if this were to collapse, then I might also.
I really care about Polly – please let her feel the same about me.
‘Last Christmas’ – Wham
Christmas 1990 kind of feels like ‘Oh no, a day away from Polly!’ – when will I see her again?
CACKER PASTY, EVERYBODY.
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Next time: ‘Christmas Day 1990…’