Fifteen, hormonal, prize beeyitch. And man mad...
In English we went over Macbeth (preparation for Literature exam). Clare, Shaunagh and I spent the whole time arguing with Miss D. about the usefulness of doing Shakespeare.
At lunch, Siobhain, twat that she is, wrote on the shoes of Judy, Andrea and myself - in non washable felt pen. Any other time I could have stood it, but not today, day of the concert.
We went past Multi-Broadcast, and Steve smiled at us. We then decided to go in and talk to him, but he escaped to the back, cos his friends were teasing him.
I listened to the chart. It's great to see the United record in.
We went out to school for the concert. As usual, it was a fair mixture of talent. The orchestra, who, as usual, started, were not. I feel I played well in the Radetzky - by the time we DC al fine, I got quite carried away. From then on, I was downhill. I was very mixed in the Grieg. Although both times I had a crescendo-decrescendo roll, I think I did very well. I missed quite a bit in the Joplin Peacherine Rag, and when I did play, I was convinced I was on the beat instead of off as I should have been, but Andrea later assured me that I was okay.
Loads of descriptions of how various soloists performed
After the interval, during which Marie Judy's housekeeper said I was needed on the drums at Wembley, it was time for the choir to sing. I had the misfortune to be next to Josiane, who has a really good voice and is a second (ie mezzo; I sang alto). Thankfully, Judy, Andrea J and Margie were behind me. Mind you, the fool that I am, having sung through Head's Little Ships of Arcady, Brahms's I Heard the Harp's Majestic Sound and Freeman's Of All The Brave Birds, I had a total mental blank over the words of Here's a Health to All Good Lasses (Anon).
I was surprised that tradition had been broken- usually the choir end - and it seemed funny that we were finishing with a soloist. But Judy surpassed herself. She played Mendelsshon's Andante and Rondo Capriciosso, and I was totally captivated. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the audience on the edges of their seats. She was totally amazing. When she had finished this really spectacular piece, she was given a round of applause the likes of which I have never heard before at Loreto - particularly not at a musical evening. It was loud, enthusiastic and - long. In fact it was so long she had no choice but to play an encore - an allegro Barbero by Bartok.
As I was getting into the car, Mrs R said "I didn't know United fans could play music." I told her to shut up. If I had been quick, I should have pointed out Loreto's music would collapse without United fans.
Jane C announced that United are going to be on TOTP tomorrow. I am lividissima, really angry, upset, everything, sick - I wanna see them, desperately. But I shall be at Choral Society. I will have to control my passionate desires.
Today has been really boring, except for perhaps during DS, when we made fish and chips. I rather liked them, particularly the batter.
I though that History was going to be one of those lessons - Mrs Pe dictating notes (on the colonisation of Africa), saying England when she should have said Britain, explaining things in her petty way, all that lot from 4S mucking round etc, but thankfully, only the first lesson was like that. At 1500 we forwarded to the Audio Visual Room. Mrs Pe had just got the tape working, when the fire bell went. What the cause was, I don't know. There was a bonfire next door, with the smoke rising high, but rumours had it that it was due to a bomb scare (GMP even turned up). We were stood outside for half an hour. It's not really the best way to spend half an hour, but, there again, History with Mrs Pe is excruciatingly boring - I'd much prefer to have Mrs Mc.
When we walked past Multi-Broadcast, Steve gave me my own personal wave.
French was really really boring, so Clare and I chatted all the way through. Repercussions later!
Lunchtime was very mixed. Andrea, Judy and I were having our normal sort of conversation, when Clare and Magda came and joined us. Now, I have no objections whatsoever to Clare, but Magdalen D I cannot stand (I'm convinced Clare came over so as not to have endure Magda - she is sick to the molars of her). Then Clare went off for a piano lesson, leaving us with Magda. I could list all the people who can't stand, or have a certain dislike for, her, but I can't afford the paper, ink or time. My chief objection to her this lunch-time was her total lack of conversational etiquette. She kept interrupting our normally free-flowing uncomplicated discourse with inane comments of her own. I was trying to listen to Andrea talk about Tom, and Magdalen was trying to talk to me. Rather irritatedly, I said, "Please be quiet - I'm trying to listen to Andrea," and she retorted, "Be like that then." To my mind this signifies something - that she can't accept that perhaps I find Andrea's (and Judy's) life more interesting than her, and just because I don't know Tom personally, I don't want to hear about him. I have a hunch that she feels that because we're both in the same class, she partially owns me, and I'm just a hanger-on to Andre and Jude. Eventually, she took the hint that perhaps she was superfluous, and went off. I was pleased - I was finding it increasingly difficult to keep my calm. Bitch that I am, I let out, "Thank God for that." A little to my surprise, Andrea agreed, and totally shocking me, Judy agreed too. Unlike me, and to a lesser extent, Andrea, Jude doesn't make a habit of passing statements of dislike for people she knows (as opposed to some players of opposing teams and snooker players of the Alex Higgins persuasion). From then on, conversation improved.
At Registration I was entering the bottom corridor from the Crush Hall end, when I saw Mrs K coming. After a frightful glare she had directed to our corner during the French lesson, I had a good reason for thinking, "Here comes trouble." Surprise, surprise - I was right. She must have lectured me for a good five minutes, and I must admit I have never seen her so angry. But if she continues making a fool of me in front of the class, I won't co-operate with her.
I went up to the classroom, and Andrea Bu and I were teasing Juliette, saying, "Have you heard? Have you heard about United? Isn't it terrible?" and she was saying "Yes." So I goes up to her and says, "what is it you've heard?" She says it's very personal and secret, so, brain clicking over, I asked her which of the players she had met, and she says Bryan Robson. I asked her what he had told her, and she says it was personal between her and Bryan. After consultation with Andrea, I asked what would happen of she found out that she was pregnant, and she goes, in that stupid voice of hers, "Ooh, I'd have a little footballer." Twat.
Before Choral Society I was talking to Ria, and she suddenly revealed that a couple of months ago, she was in Stretford Sports Centre, when whom should she pass but Norman Whiteside. Needless to say, she sort of went weak at the knees and fainted in front of him, and asked him for his autograph, but with characteristic bad luck, her biro had run out. She dashed off to get another, and when she returned he was in the bar - drinking a lager (under age drinking!).
Choral Society was quite good. We spent half the time, unfortunately, with Fa. I had indigestion, and then my jaw began to ache. Afterwards, Sophie was playing The Entertainer, and Damian did this fabulous dance.
When I got home I learnt (sort of) to my relief that United, although supposed to be on TOTP, couldn't make it, so Brighton were on instead. Bloody southern bias.
I tried to learn my History on the bus but to no avail for some Ambrose lads spent the whole journey beep-beeping on some electronic game.
Steve was in Multi-Broadcast. We chatted to him for a bit.
Pages and pages of Radio coverage of the build up to the Cup Final
I planned to listen to Mark Radcliffe, but I was getting jittery, so I turned off, curled up, and started counting to a hundred. I must have fallen asleep quite quickly, for I don't recall starting to count in sevens.
11 sides in my diary - which usually covered two or three - written in red ink, which basically said that United drew 2-2 in the FA Cup Final with Brighton...
The match has just ended, and if it was not for Gary Bailey, Brighton would have won, for Michael Robinson beat both Kevin Moran and Gordon McQueen, and passed to Gordon Smith who was going to score, who SHOULD have scored ("Smith must score" is a famous football quote.) But Gary Bailey saved not only the most important save of his career, but perhaps one of the hardest.
I'm telling you man, I am mental and nervous wreck. I have been trembling all over, and my nails are in shreds. My hair is a mess, for having had my hands run through it, and I'm really gutted. At times, United so dominated the match, yet it was not to be their day. For once in my life, my words fail me. Yet it was such an entertaining match - possibly the best I have ever seen, and I really revelled in the enjoyment of the game - Ray Wilkins's goal was a goal of sheer class, a beautiful long ball, from the left end of the centre line to Ray on the right side of the penalty box, and a delightful chip, Brazilian style to put us in the lead.
When Mater, Pater and El Bratto went out to Mass, I phoned Judy, and we stayed on the blower for forty five minutes - until ma famille returned. Judy's very upset about Kevin's performance, upset about the rude remarks Marie was making all the way through, and not too happy about the scoreline.
I can only feel regret about the fact that there is a replay. After all, it does take place on Thursday - the day of Choral Society Rehearsal, and I have an inkling that while Mrs Bm might understand my reasons for not going, I'm not sure Daddy will - perhaps I can persuade Ria to video it.
After lunch I listened to a Piccadilly Special on United's homecoming, from Albert Square, they were broadcasting live. Then they said United were leaving Bowdon, so we pelted down Woodhouse Lane and waited for ages in the increasingly heavy rain. The puddles on Washway Road were quite something: every time I stepped out into the road, I got soaked (particularly my feet) but I couldn't care less, for I knew they were coming - I could see the helicopter (Granada TV) up above, and the traffic lights were switched off, the police were directing traffic. Then I stepped out, saw some headlights coming (obviously meant to be powerful). I shouted this out, so people knew they were coming.
The police motorbikes came leading the open top bus. The poor dears looked so wet. Kevin Moran was the first one I saw - he was right at the front. Also saw Norman Whiteside, Bryan Robson, who looked absolutely saturated, and Martin Buchan. We rushed home and switched on the telly to see them. It's wonderful to see them - they're all looking so wet. Ray Wilkins was saying that they're hoping that they won't all go down with pneumonia. Bryan Robson said he is colder and wetter than he's ever been in his life. Dave Ward kept appearing on the TV. Pauline actually saw Scott McGarvey on the bus, yet I missed him. Ee gods, he's gorgeous.
I went to bed with Dave Ward. Two of the prizes were a blow-up Ray Wilkins and a blow-up Frank Stapleton. When Neville was on the phone from the flashvan in Atherton he was winding Dave up about being on the telly, and Dave reckons he must be the only person who didn't see him on the telly.
When I got to school all the chat seemed to be about the Cup Final. Both Clare and Magda saw Scott yesterday, too, and I'm livid. In English we had a whole double lesson doing Macbeth. Clare and I decided that we are not going to bother - and don't give a toss how we do in the exam.
At Break I went over to L6 to tell Sarah H that I had decided to withdraw from the Election. Thankfully, she said she would tell Mrs Mc for me. That was something I was not looking forward to.
In History we got our tests back. I'm very pleased at 32 ½ out of 35, particularly considering that I did not learn it.
At lunchtime I went to the library to read the Sportspages in the Guardian and the Times. I don't know what happened to the Ayatollah school librarian, but Judy and I managed to chat all the way through without being reprimanded.
Andrea, Judy and I left Caroline and Maria at the top of George Street. We said, "If you see Bryan, keep him for us, won't you." You see, both Maria and Caroline fancy Bryan Robson like hell, and we're saying he has been seen in Alty. Maria says if she saw him, she'd just scream with pleasure.
Unfortunately we met Magda down in the Post Office. She was posting letters to Gary Bailey and Timmy Mallett. She insisted on walking down to Alty with us, and even into Multi-Broadcast. We (particularly Andre and I) had a lovely conversation with Steve. He's a United fan and enjoyed being paid for watching the final. Then I was admiring his badge, so he gave me one. It says "The Wrap Around Sound. Multi-Broadcast". I'm really chuffed. I caught the bus home with Magda. For once, she wasn't being too boring.
I watched a Royal Gala performance from the Royal Albert Hall marking the centenary of the Royal College of Music. The first piece was by Holst. It was weird and great. The second was Vaughan-Williams Serenade To music, which was beautiful. Next was Tippett's Ritual Dances, which I did not like. I think perhaps it was too heavy on the ponderous strings, and too light on any sense of direction.
After the interval was Arnold's Trumpet Concerto, the first performance. It's really nice - I like it. Then was Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra. It was fabulous - I love Benjamin Britten anyway. The final piece was Parry's I Was Glad, which was stupendous.
Mrs Pe tried to persuade me out of resigning my candidature, but I'm adamant. I'm NOT standing.
IN DS, Mrs Mo had a really enjoyable lesson bollocking us. She, in pointing out all the faults in our Wednesday's homework, used my work for every bad thing she could think of - and even at 3/10, my mark was not the worst.
In Music Mrs Bm said she had been watching the Cup Final and had been hoping for a few glum faces this afternoon.
In WH Smiths we saw Lisa and Justine. They were saying that they were sitting on Lisa's wall on Sunday, holding a banner saying , "Seagulls Shooting Day Begins Thursday," and Gordon McQueen gave them a funny look. Sandra was screaming like mad, and then Frank Stapleton gave her a funny look. They also Scott - I must be the only person who didn't.
In the second History lesson we had to move tables to the Crush Hall. It was quite funny coming back - Clare, Sandra and I decided to dawdle back to the History Room, so went along the Middle Corridor, and stood there waving to people on the Art Room balcony. Then we realised that Mrs Pe was in the History Room, so we pelted, so's she wouldn't see us.
I told Daddy that I am not going to Choral Society tomorrow night. He did not seem in the least bit surprised, indeed he said he expected it, so it was with renewed interest that I heard the FA Cup Final Replay line-up.
I listened to Weird Ward. Horizontal Smooch was Billy Fury's Forget It. Holiday Romance was No Woman, No Cry - Bob Marley.
Nine pages for Replay Day - in red ink, natch
When I got to school a notice reminded me that because today is Form 2 Retreats, we aren't allowed in our classrooms between 8.45 and 15.45, so we have to carry all our stuff round with us all day. It's bloody annoying. We COULD leave them in or on the cupboards in Room 3, where we are based, but that's an open invitation to those with light fingers. I'm loth to leave my tennis racquet, but I'm certainly not carting that around all over the place.
In Music Mrs Bm said "I presume you won't be coming to Choral Society this evening." She expects her soprano and alto sections to be somewhat light.
At lunchtime we were on the Broadwalk and had a right laugh. Kathy, Aviva, Magda etc were singing Glory Glory Man United, trying to attract my attention, but I ignored them. Then they were yelling Manchester United, Old Trafford, and so on, when a voice, coming down by St Ann's, announced, "Brighton" in such a matter of fact way, I was in convulsions. I turned around. It was Ria.
I had just recovered from that fit of giggles, when a tennis ball came flying along the Broadwalk, hit me on the finger and upset all the slush from my beaker, down inside my blouse. We were getting bored by the lack of laughs when Henneh asked us to mind her Mills and Boon book, and Andrea was about to read it out, when I suggested playing Sausage and Polony: after all, Mills and Boon are notorious for their monotony. It was really hilarious, particularly this waiter (early twenties, blond and tanned...) flashed his sausage at Marsha. After two and a half pages, Henneh returned to claim it, but in that time I had been totally unimpressed by the original script. We spent the rest of the lunch hour talking in sausage and polony.
After Latin we were telling Caroline about Gary Bailey going out with Miss UK, and Caroline, being obtuse, said, "I thought he was married." And she quite believed us when we said, oh yes, but that doesn't stop him going out with Miss UK. (Caroline is now a respected GP not many hundreds of yards from our old school...)
I walked down to Alty with Andrea and Judy. We were all in silly moods. It all started when Andrea said, "I asked her this morning how to spell 'commemorates' and all she said was 'What does that mean?' So I said, "Perhaps they don't do that in foreign countries". So Judy threatened either to get Kevin, and emigrate back to their 'foreign country', or else to get Kevin Moran, Frank Stapleton, Paul McGrath, Norman Whiteside and Ashley Grimes onto me. Andrea said we could leave Frank out of it, for she wanted him.
Later on, we were walking along, and Andrea offered me a Polo - "Be a devil, take one," she said. I said, "I'll be a Red Devil," but she said she'd prefer the real thing.
Bryan Robson has just scored a brilliant goal.
Norman Whiteside has scored.
Bryan Robson makes it 3-0, and not a bad goal, either.
Halftime. Pauline has just phoned Grandad, to share the euphoria of the Final. When Auntie June Grandad's second wife answered, she says, astounded, "Aren't you watching the football?"
Arnie Muhren has converted a penalty.
We have won the Cup! I am really really happy. To be totally honest, I can't believe it - perhaps by the time I get to school I will, but not before then. At the moment it's a bald empty fact, and now that it's purely election talk on the news, it seems very divorced from my life. It was truly magnificent to see the lads win the FA Cup in such style, and to see Bryan Robson lift that cup filled my heart with a profound happiness.
I was about to make Math's supper when the phone rang. Needless to say, it was Judy, sounding a little over the moon. I'm happy, she's happy, we're all happy, all of Manchester is happy. And if you don't believe that you ought to have been listening to Piccadilly. First of all Timmy announces his top three. Is number one Wham? No. Is it New Edition? No. It's Glory Glory Man United! Dave came on, and peering through his radio, noticed that all his UTBCers were looking colourful - you see, they were all wearing scarfs, hats and rosettes. Guess who was the first UTBCer to wear a Utd scarf - yours truly.
There were drunks going down the Lane yelling Glory Glory Man United rather off-key. I usually hate drunken marauders on the lane, but this time, I couldn't care less, I'm happy!
Even though FA Cup Final Replay day is over, nothing will stop me celebrating - therefore I am continuing to write in red pen.
I got to the bus stop and tied my scarf onto my bag. Magda arrived and copied me. At Grafton Mall, I bought a Star so she bought a Star (copycat).
At school it was brilliant. Everyone seems to have watched the match, even Mrs N, who regards Manchester United as awful (So why teach at a Manchester United-obsessed school!. Andrea's Mum has fallen in love with Alan Davies and Kathy's Mum, like millions of other people, has fallen in love with Kevin Moran. Of course the Bryan Robson, Gary Bailey and Norman Whiteside fans are prominent.
In history, people from 4S kept leaving the classroom to go to Sr. P. headmistress. There are two stories circulating round about why: one that they were all mucking around outside MacDonalds last night, are in real trouble for that (But I doubt it - they'd hardly all come out crying after spending practically the whole morning in there) and the other story is that they were all found in the bushes yesterday smoking, and there was a condom found with them. So you can imagine the uproar there was at such a crap school as ours.
At lunchtime we sat on the Broadwalk being canvassed by the Paradise Party, the Extra Sure Party and the Hard Core Lefty Punk Party. I do believe that the Paradise Party (Love Peace Joy) is gathering momentum.
At home I relaxed with a pot of cherry-orange yoghurt, a cup of coffee, the Manchester Evening News (FULL of pictures...) and the radio. Old Trafford has been broken into but the Cup is safe.
This morning I got a letter from Susanne. Her brother went down to Wembley, and was staying over the road from the United hotel. The fans were allowed in to meet the players. He took loads of photoes. Bryan Robson's Dad was so pissed he asked David to dance. Next morning, David went jogging with Lou Macari, and then he waved the coach off. When he was chatting to Bryan he mentioned that Susanne would be chuffed. So Robbo said, "Why, is she a United fan." "Yes, and a Bryan Robson fan." So Bryan said, "Send her all my love." So she's over the moon and floating round the room in ecstasy.
In the evening I watched Puccini's Manon Lescaut, starring Kiri Te Kanawa, Thomas Allen..and the absolutely gorgeous Plácido Domingo.
Bank Holiday. I got up at about half past ten, and went downstairs and then realised, that as mother was busy in the kitchen it would be rather difficult for me to do my toast, so I went back to bed, and hopefully, to sleep, but Pauline switched on her radio and even though I was totally UTBC, I could not help but hear Timmy Mallett. So Pauline and I had a slanging match, and eventually she got up. A few minutes later, Math came up and started yelling at me. So I followed him downstairs and bashed him up..
After breakfast, Daddy hunted out for me some old records (mainly 78s) either that he hasn't played for yonks, or that Grandad used to own and has given to us. Some of them are brilliant. Then I played Gyro-tennis with Math.
After making, eating and clearing lunch away, I had a game of cricket with Math. Then I started a lemon meringue pie, but mother came home , and didn't like the way I did it, so we had an argument, and she finished it off. Then I made a lasagne.
