I’ve been home for Christmas. Mum’s feebler. Small voice. ‘Can you get your own tea tonight?’
The Lent term of 1980 starts depressingly. January blues. I can’t even bask in the reflected glory of “The Mikado.” Full houses, bursting. ‘More!’ Even buying a new album – “The Return Of The Durutti Column” – filled with optimistic spring sounds, can’t diminish my sense of loss.
I spend dank dark afternoons freezing on the hockey playing fields. I should be more motivated, but really I’m finding my concentration telescoping into two areas. Drama and cricket…