Much of the diary in the middle of May is taken up with details of what I was revising for my O Levels - Ovid's At The Races here, a Hardy Beeny Cliff there, proteins here, and Arnold's Scottish Dances there. Fascinating stuff. Not
I am absolutely knackered, and I suppose I should write this; mind you it's quarter to ten! The day has gone pretty badly. I was doing my DS practical, and it turned out pretty crap. Oh well, I am beyond caring at the moment.
I made Hungarian Goulash, which was okay, rice, which was not too bad, sweetcorn, which was perfect (yeah), lumpy pineapple marshmallow flop (alias pineapple meringue pie), and burnt Bourbon biscuits. After school I walked to Alty to get a pork pie and chips and go to the library. Back at school, I played some stuff on a piano, and eventually went for my French oral. It was middling. I got my worst 'b' questions. For my topic, I got La Musique, which is better than Mon Education but not as groady as Les Sports.
Football Focus were featuring heavily on the retirement today of Kevin Keegan, Trevor Brooking, Eddie Gray and Billy Bonds - it's the passing of an era. Another passing era, tho' I have no regrets whatsoever, is the retirement of Clive Thomas.
On the Piccadilly Six O'Clock News I heard that Lou Macari's Testimonial against Celtic ended one-all. Apparently, there was a fabulous atmosphere. God, I wish I had been there!
After tea Mother and I went out to town for the Hallé. All the way between Stretford and town we saw loads of fellas and quite a few girls milling around. I couldn't tell, whether they were Celtic or United fans, because they were wearing a mixture of red and green. It seemed really ace.
The Dream of Gerontius (Elgar) was pretty ace. James Loughran conducted the Hallé Choir and Orchestra, with soloists Maldwyn Davies (who has a gorgeous voice), Bernadette Greevy, and Rodney MaCann. In places the music was really powerful. In the interval, I saw Esther's parents, and loads of people from Lower 6.
Everyone's been full of themselves. Judy, Andrea and Louise were going mad about last night's snooker match. John Parrott won 10-9, but it was really good apparently. They met both the fellas, and think John's really nice. They all kissed Stevie.
In French, Mrs K said two people had got La Musique, and had done very well. I was full of disbelief.
I had a quick chat with Katie O'T. She went to the match yesterday, and was in at the scoreboard end with all her Glaswegian relations. She says the atmosphere was great, and the match was really good.
Mrs Mo said that no one had failed their DS practical, which was a relief to me, because I had this dread that I would be the first in the History of the school.
The day has been eventful, fun, and, well to quote the expression Andre says I use a lot, it's been really ace. Both Andrea and I have been in filthy moods, and spent the whole day reading rude remarks into everything people say.
RE was really ace - we did the whole of the RE syllabus. Lunchtime was really ace - I went to choir and sang 'Somewhere' from West Side Story, and Scarborough Fair.
After school, I went round to a chap on xxxxxx Crescent to join the Labour Party.
On the radio I heard the Treasurer of my ward Labour Party, who I visited yesterday!
United lost two nil. I do not honestly believe we have even managed to clinch second place - I have to study a League table. It's the culmination of a disastrous end to the season. I worked out that if our last ten matches were an exact yardstick of the whole season, we would have been relegated, and if the last five or six, I think it is, were, we would have done worse than Wolves.
I went out to Choral Society. It was pretty good. We did the Kyrie and Dona Nobis Pacem from the Haydn (Theresiene Mass)- they will both sound really nice when properly rehearsed. Martin was there. I did not feel any flicker of any emotional flame whatsoever. (However, most of my March and April diaries had been filled with...Martin, Martin, Martin... )
My god, I've written a load of this, haven't I? I suppose when I am feeling literally inspired, I have not the mental energy, nor indeed the time, inclination or the appreciation of worth.
But, Gert, my love, ten lines is pretty abysmal. You did more in First Year.
