Gertsamtkunstwerk

Reminiscing Week One at Uni

written in very late September and early October 1986.

I have seriously edited out the endless lists of people, with their subjects, room numbers, town of parental residence etc. Reading through, I sense an absolute obsession with where people are from. Perhaps a natural reaction to moving away from the only home one has known. I also lost my tenuous grip on the proper use of English

Day one. First impressions! Wonderful. It’s strange, really, this morning my major interest was finding out what happened in Blackpool yesterday (Labour Party Conference). But now – all that seems to matter is being a Willoughbite - a resident of Willoughby Hall. I was really looking forward to arriving at the University of Nottingham. With Daddy I went up to my room C18 which means that I am on the second floor. The first impression was large – but Spartan. But no longer Spartan – it has my property scattered in a homely but not disorganised fashion. The view out of the window is beautiful - at the moment all I can see is a pair of purple curtains, but earlier today – trees. There’s a weeping willow outside the window but un-viewblocking, and the weather was sunny and literally hot – according to Radio Trent it was up to 70F; yet the trees are turning brown, gold and red.

Teenage revisited

I have just discovered a couple more days diary from October 1985 (Upper Sixth, rising 18). So, without further ado:

Today has been okay, only I know I ought to be working harder. Only, I can’t be arsed. I don’t even know if I want to go to Oxford. One thing I know for certain is that if I’m only offered a place at a women’s college, I’m going to turn it down. I don’t think I could I stand another three years of bitchy single sex education. Mind you, I did a little bit of Politics before the chart run down. I’m very pleased to see You Are My World in the charts, even if only just. With Cloudbusting, Don’t Break My Heart, a Good Heart and Nikita all going up as well, it’s just bad news that Alive and Kicking has gone down, and I’m waiting for See The Day to chart.

John S my father's colleague and friend came for dinner because he is taking Mummy to visit Daddy in hospital he was having tests which eventually led to him having a heart bypass this evening because she can’t otherwise get there because of the bus strike

I don’t think today is a working day (sorry Mrs Mc et al). After lunch I set out to Manchester on the 41. As I was walking down W. Lane, I noticed Norman Whiteside turning out of M Road.

On the bus it was quite good going through Rusholme etc, all that way, seeing all the students, both Uni and Poly, and just eaves-dropping on the conversations – so different from school people, if you know what I mean.

I alighted from the bus outside the BBC and reported to the receptionist, who told me to wait for Steve Ireland’s the producer of Look North West secretary. As I was waiting, I saw Denis Law. He was introduced to a receptionist as Denis Law and I commented to a man sat next to me that you can’t miss Denis Law. The man said he didn’t live in Manchester, but he had certainly heard of Denis Law. As I was speaking to this man, it struck me that I ought to know who he was – he seemed vaguely familiar, but I can’t for the life of me place him.

Steve Ireland’s secretary collected me and took me up to the second floor. Steve gave me a lecture on how competitive journalism is, how you must be prepared to start at the bottom and work up, how you mustn’t be too proud to do anything, how Simon Cole became head of programmes at Piccadilly because he begged for a job making tea etc.

I was taken to the newsroom, where I was handed over to a fella called David who is a producer’s assistant, but that’s pretty high up. After he had attempted phoning Derek Hatton’s secretary to find out what time Derek and friends are leaving Liverpool tomorrow, I was shown round the complex, and I sat in the vision control room watching Paul Newman interview Eric Heffer (who was in the Westminster studio). Parliament was prorogued today. I also watched John Mundy rehearse for, and then read the news. As I came out of the room he smiled at me.

I drifted around the newsroom, looking at what people were doing, reading all the telex stuff. I went to the vision control and from five o’clock watched preparation for the programme. Walking around, I had noticed Alastair McDonald a few times, and he had smiled. Paul Newman was exceedingly friendly, too, so was Colin Philpott, although I didn’t know it was he until somebody addressed him as Mr Philpott. I wasn’t very impressed by Stuart Hall. It would be unfair to describe him as rude, just uninterested – and very much the star. John was there from five o’clock, or before, getting ready and that, Stuart rolled up at quarter to six.

It was really interesting seeing the programme go out, the controlled panic just before going on air, the faces pulled by Stuart and John, off camera. What’s more, I know I want to be a journalist.

I caught the 41 which by chance came quickly. I was going along happily, just me and this fella upstairs, when suddenly it went off somewhere I didn’t recognise. I turned to this fella and said, “This is the forty one isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “it’s a detour.” Then a bus garage came into view, and we realised that the bus was going there, so we went downstairs and asked the driver what he was playing at. He wasn’t too charming when he said we ought to have looked at the front of the bus. I must confess I didn’t check the destination indicator, but I knew a 41 was due when it came, the timetable confirmed it was going to Woodheys, and it was a 41, not a 41x.

Well, me and this fella were totally lost. By asking about five separate people we ended up by the Post House, and walked right under Princess Parkway bridge to the nearest bus stop. There was a woman –girl –there. We asked whether the 41 had come, she said no, she’d been there since twenty five to waiting for the five to eight bus – it was now a couple of minutes to eight. The timetable said there was at five to, the bus stop said there was one at five to – we were obviously on the five to, he was obviously knocking off, and couldn’t be bothered going all the way to Woodheys and back.

Eventually the twenty five past came, and this girl who’s a first year at the Poly reading Education, this fella, Nick, and I got it. He seemed okay did Nick. He’s nearly twenty three and on the dole. He had no money, so I said use my Clipper Card. He was dead grateful, so I thanked him for getting me through the dark streets of Northenden.

I got home and being ravenous I tucked into a meal willingly and listened to Daddy’s story of hospital. He said there was a Northern Irish woman there, called Mrs McIlroy, who kept talking about ‘Our Sam.’ It wasn’t for a quite long that he realised she was talking about Sammy McIlroy, the one and only.

And, even though I don't do requests, I thought I would write up West Side Story for Jag, even though it took place in November

I got ready to go out, getting all tarted up in my NEW maroon skirt, and old shabby blouse. I was a bit hurried due to time, but I looked neither tarty nor frumpy. Daddy gave me a lift to Brooklands Station – well, the rest of the family were there, and were waiting for Chris, who was going with them to a bonfire. It was weird standing on the station – breezy, wet – in the dark, hearing the bangs of the fireworks. Mind you, my mind took it all in – storing it on the filing cabinet for future literary reference.

The train arrived and I made a special effort not to get in with everyone else, I didn’t fancy being part of a party of screaming school kids. The train got into Deansgate and I made a quick get away, conscious of people behind me. Magda was screaming about ‘where are we going?’ and ‘let’s follow Gert.’ I wasn’t fully aware of who was around. I knew for a fact that if Andrea, Louise and Sam only, I used their surnames were there, I did not want them relying on me to get there, after being so downright rude. In addition, Magda had hardly been decent to me either. I 'AS MY PRINCIPLES, you know. We generally got our way to the Opera House – me, Esther, Magda, Nicola and Steph O, Clare G, Sarah H, and Rachel - and took our seats – I was between Rachel and Sarah. Andrea, Louise and Sam arrived, and I couldn’t help thinking how BORING and STIFF they looked – like three old ladies. Michelle arrived with Terence her bisexual boyfriend, goodness knows what the old ladies thought of Terry – definitely camp, and definitely wearing make up.

West Side Story began, and it was fabulous. The dancing, the music, the scenery, the drama….Everytime the orchestra struck up, a tingle went down my spine. Some of the songs were excellent – the rest were brilliant! ‘Gee, Officer Krupke’ was really pzaz; ‘One Hand, One Heart’ was really sad; ‘Tonight’ was gorgeous, and ‘America’ was…well, it was ‘America,’ raucous, fun and Puerto Rica!

The music for the Dance at the Gym, real evocative 1940s/early 50s jazz. Oh I don’t know what was best. A lot of people went for Sam Williams, who played Riff, I personally thought Michael French (Tony) was more attractive, but for me the real star had to be Jan Hartley, who played Maria. She was so Hispanically dramatic; and she has a gorgeous voice.

I spoiled myself in the interval, buying a vodka-and-orange, and a strawberry ice cream. I had to laugh, I was stood by my seat sorting out my coat and cardigan. Louise, Andrea and Sam had to push past or say excuse me. Most people would have done one or the other; they stood there, obviously refusing either to speak to me, or to touch me.

Hmm, I think I was more concerned with fighting in the Upper Sixth Common Room than the Jets and Sharks....

Teenage angst from October 1985

As I will not be near a computer until Wednesday evening, at the earliest, I thought I would treat you to the entirety of the October 1985 diary extract, which shows me moving away from some old friends, one of whom had been my 'best friend' for eight years. It reads as more Primary Schooly than I remember, but it leads up to quite an amusing finale, which I had actually quite forgotten... I was in Upper Sixth, a few months short of 18.

So you don't have to read it in one sitting; I would be interested in your gut reaction, and don't hold back, because this was literally half a lifetime ago, so any judgement you make is not really on me, nowadays.

October 1984 Part 3

After school I went to help 1G get ready for the First Years Halloween Party. I had to put powder on the faces of Marion and Joanne, and spray the hair of Megan and Jackie. I decided to put a bit of green into my own.

We escorted them down to the Hall where they had a fancy dress parade. Andrea, Judy, Louise and I were lumbered with the job of controlling those waiting outside the crush hall. I was chatting to Miss D. She was asking me why I had been to UMIST, so I explained. She said that she thinks I would find Chartered Accountancy exceedingly boring.

When the little ones went to change, I was chatting to Mrs Mc. One girl had dressed as Margaret Thatcher and had left her mask lying around. Mrs Mc had tried it on, and was trying to persuade me to, but I refused.

Judy, Louise and I went to have a look at the snooker on the telly in the Chaplain’s room. We went down to the Common Room and acted as First Years in the dress rehearsal for the Ghost Story. We supervised the eats. They are real terrors, especially Amanda. She’s great – she’ll argue about anything – just like me. I think she’ll make a good Union leader or politician (Friends Reunited check - Living in Sydney, Australia and having a great time. I work in financial recruitment. I've been here for over 2 years now and not missing the UK too much!!!)

After clearing and washing up, we went to three sittings of the Halloween Story. The special effects were really good – synthesised music, search light, Esther falling out of a cupboard as a corpse, Angela S walking past the window with blood (sorry, tomato sauce) on her hand. 1G were really scared, 1J just laughed and screamed a little, whilst 1M were almost as good as 1G. Prior to that I had an exchange of views with Catherine K. Amanda and another girl wanted to go into the story again, so I let them, as long as they didn’t spoil it for 1M. Lady K wanted to go in as well, but I said no, because it was Amanda and her friend’s idea, and Catherine was just copying. Apart from anything else, she needs to learn that she can’t always get her own way. She went into a sulk, and said she is going to report me to Sr G. Oh dear, I must start worrying!

I went to Choral Society. Unfortunately, there was no Martin, but Angela (his sister) says he’ll be coming after half term. Various of the lads – Mike, Damian (yeah!), Daniel, Michael and Ian WERE there. We did a Byrd Mass, and something else by Byrd.

PS Someone in form one is so scared of the Loreto Ghost that she wants to leave and go to BTH.

The Stats lesson was really embarrassing. I had tackled a question differently from the method that Fiona B had shown to be the best method of getting an answer. I asked Cliffie how I had obtained that, and he tackled it. He spent ages on the blackboard, and just couldn’t get it. I was SO embarrassed.

Puwer was a pain. I was working through the work he had set us, and was far from easy. Andrea looked at my book and was criticising it. We were having a real slanging match. Poor old Cliffie was getting quite worked up, saying “Calm down, calm down, calm down.”

I spent about an hour drinking two cups of tea and conversing avec la famille (really gripping, I don’t think). I was most annoyed. They complain when I don’t stick around talking all day and when I do they criticise everything I say. Oh well, that’s life for you!

Daddy drove me to Judy’s. As Judy opened the door, she greeted me. So did Tommy, Susi and Max, the dogs. When I walked in the living room, Aisling and Andrea did too. Louise arrived later and eventually we went to he Indian Restaurant in Timperley Village. It seems quite a pleasant place. Whilst we were choosing we had a drink. I had an orange juice. We eventually decided on what we wanted. The waiter told Andrea and I we were brave ladies ordering a Madras curry. It wasn’t over hot, actually – just right. Andrea, Judy and Louise all had chicken curries, but I was awkward, I had prawn. Accompanying it, we had the house white. When we had finished an exceedingly tasty and filling meal, we had Gaelic coffee. I don’t like whisky, and I don’t usually like coffee with even a hint of milk or cream in it, but I must say that I approve of Gaelic coffee.

The conversation was excellent. Nobody said anything of absolute total marvellousness and profundity, but we were all ourselves at our best, and we had a thoroughly good time. No doubt the drinks helped in loosening our tongues.

Mother was going to Alty, so I got up and descended the stairs (you see, it’s the quickest way to the kitchen).

There’s pages and pages about me agonising about a situation – which didn’t come to pass – a problem, which a friend confided in me about. It makes good reading, but, it isn’t my business to publish on the Internet. Even nineteen years on.

I heard on the news that Indira Ghandi, Prime Minister of India, has been assassinated. I’m afraid to say it but she had it coming to her after her treatment of the Sikhs in the Punjab, including the storming of the Golden Temple.

I watched the beginning of Dallas, comedy show of the year, and then Superted, which is really groovy.

Next installment will be October 1985, where Gert does teenage angst in the style of an infant school child

October 1984, Part 2

Today has been really eventful. I caught a 264 into town. I was really naughty, using my tenpence Clippercard. There were lots of posters on the bus about fare dodging, and I began getting a really guilty conscience. As luck would have it, an Inspector got on at Stretford Arndale. My heart beat faster and faster, and he approached me. He looked at my Clippercard and asked me where I was going. I said Loreto Manchester, thinking quickly. He asked me where my Pass was, and I turned very polite, deferential and apologetic, saying that I had left it at home. He left me, then came back later, gave me a lecture, and asked me to pay the difference.

I alighted from the train at Huddersfield and caught a bus to New Mill. It was a pleasant journey, through the picturesque Pennine Scenery. I was met there by Ann Taylor. She had been out visiting some miners, and realising that a bus was due, she waited for me. She’s very nice, very friendly, and exceedingly hospitable. After formalities, I got down to the business of interviewing.

She was very talkative and very interesting, but then I dried up, so she suggested we had a coffee. The coffee turned into lunch, over which we had quite a chat. I was asking about various things about the House and various MPs. She gets on well with both Neil and Roy – indeed, Roy Hattersley is her son’s godfather. She says the image of Neil portrayed by the media is a very real one- he is like that. He is very talkative to an extreme – won’t use one word where one hundred and sixty will do, and has been known to take quarter of an hour to ask a question – let alone answering it. Roy Hattersley isn’t as intellectual as he thinks he is.After lunch I interviewed her again. She then drove me into Huddersfield where I caught the train.

I watched the news. NACODS have voted to start striking on Thursday, which means that all the working pits will have to shut. It shows how bad things are – NACODS are anti-militant and upwardly mobile.

After History, I was talking with Mrs Mc. Mrs P had showed her my Question Time Essay. She wants me to do Politics at University. I was saying that if I did go to University I would do Politics but I don’t have any ambition to go to Uni. I’m not sure I like being discussed in this way.

In the evening I walked round to Una and Ray’s to wait for Gordon to arrive. We drove to Timperley Labour club for the branch meeting. It was interesting just seeing how the nitty gritty fundamentals of business works. It was nice meeting people. It was interesting seeing the general attitudes pro or con the miners.

Assembly was Lower Sixth. We did it on evil. Petra interviewed me – I was the devil. It went down really well – causing some laughter – and I felt the effect all round school today, with teachers congratulating us, and pupils making sarky comments – not that I mind, it shows they noticed, and it meant that I was a minor celebrity round school for the day.

Yeah, thanks for asking – I’m fine and groovy. When EVENTUALLY got up from my lovely warm bed into this cold, cruel, wet world, I had breakfast and dressed.

After lunch I went in the car with Math to Old Trafford. We were delayed going under that bit of building where they’re building, because the team coach was there (the United team coach – god knows why they came by coach). I only saw the back views of Arthur Albiston and Alan Brazil.

There was no sign of Jane by half past, so I went to get a programme for her. After I got back, I noticed that my friends from Longsight were there, so we went to join them, which was a good decision because Ashouk, Paul and Colin are a good laugh.

(Lots of narrative about the match, United beat Spurs 1-0).
After the match we caught the bus. Karen L was on. She was a bit flummoxed by the post-football crowd, but I looked after her. She had been in to town.

Papa drove Mother and me into town to the Free Trade Hall. We climbed to the top and down again, and took our seats. Magda’s parents arrived soon after us. The concert was fantastic, the conductor brought the best out of the Halle (the conductor was Jacek Kaspryk). The orchestra were rearranged, with the two bases behind the wind in front of the percussion. The trumpets were next to the flutes, and the French horns behind the cellos. It was a good effect!

After the tres boring National Anthem was Fingals Cave (Mendelssohn). This was fabulous. I really loved it. Magic, great. Ee, I can’t describe that evocation of tranquillity. The second piece was Rachmaninov’s Variation on a Theme of Paganini. This too was very good – excellent balance.

After the interval was Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique which is just out of this world. The music is just so descriptive and during the third movement, which is a day in the fields thinking of one’s lover, I let my mind wonder in time to music, I ended up thinking about Martin B. It gave me quite a surprise to realise that I was supposed to be thinking about that. The fourth movement was March to the Scaffold, which is superbrill.

At lunch I went to choir. We practised a suffragette March, and when most people had gone, Mrs Bt got a few people – Gabriel, Esther, Magda amongst others – to sing while I did a rhythm on the side drum.

After Italian, we actually recorded the Women’s March, assisted by Mrs Mc and Mr R.

Another day gone by, with very little achieved. No that’s a pile of bullshit, Gert, and you know it – you’re just wanting halfterm to hurry up and come.

I went to Alty to catch a train to Piccadilly. Petra and I walked to the UMIST Renold building. We met up with Jane Mt, who’s in Sixth Form at St B’s, because her father teaches there.

At two thirty a lecture on Chartered Accountancy began. It was a real insight into the workings of Chartered Accountants. We started with a film and then a second year student gave her perception of the work. A fella who has been qualified for two years gave us an amusing talk on Accountancy in general.
My general impression was that the work itself is wonderfully fascinating, absolutely intriguing, but it’s the thought of three years study POSTGRADUATE that rather puts me off.

I had a giggle on Oxford Road seeing a school party pushing around and fussing. I then realised to my horror that it was Loreto Second Years. They got on - some in my carriage and Mrs M and Miss D passed me and asked me what I had been doing.

No time for blogging

In addition to previous list must blog about not seeing Paul McCartney, Lily's apple, last night's not-meeting.

Oh and here is October 1984, Part 1. I had just started in Lower Sixth of the same school I had attended for five years. Certain characters - Kathy, Clare, Siobhan, in particular - had gone off to Sixth Form Colleges in Manchester; the forms had been rejigged; we were studying the subjects we chose for A-Level, plus General Studies, RE and PE..., plus any extra O-level subjects we chose to do.

I went to Pure Maths. I was rather late. Andrea M and Caroline claim that Cliffie was eyeing me up. That’s Andrea and Caroline for you! RE was really boring – except for the chats with Maureen, Fran and Andrea Bl about social life.
I did a few Maths calculations for my own amusement.

Today has been one of those days that I have been perfectly content, without being deliriously exuberant. I have no real worries and the work has been fairly stimulating. In Government, Heneh and Gabrielle were commenting on the week’s news. We discussed the miners’ strike quite animatedly.

History was fine – we did the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle and the riots in Italy and Spain during 1820, and the start of Methodism in Britain. In boring RE we did boring Buddhism.

In Stats we had a good laugh. Cliffie was giving us problems from a really sexist textbook. One of the questions was “There’s a family, mother and father, and ten sons…”
“My god!” exclaimed I. “They must have been trying for a daughter…”
“… and run out of steam after those ten,” added Cliffie, and then continued with the problem. “Out of these twelve they have to choose four representatives…”
“…for Ask the Family,” I said. I think that Cliffie’s reaction showed that his opinion of Ask the Family is somewhat similar to mine.

I watched the Six O’clock News. The Labour Party Conference have voted for a unilateral disarmament policy, as advocated by Neil Kinnock and the NEC and opposed by Denis Healey and Jim Callaghan.

Before school, I helped Andrea with her Further Maths homework (incidentally, I got it right). After Hymn Practice we had a quick talk from Mrs Mc and Caroline J in U6 about a competition run by the Hansard Society to write, produce etc a radio programme.

In Government we got our monarchy essays back. I got an A-, which is better than the B I got for Peterloo. In Pure Maths, he gave us back that awful homework. I got 5, no not out 20, but 10.

In the evening I discovered that the Bibliography is missing from my O Level History Project – some scum in 4th or 5th Year must have nicked it.

Before school saw Mrs Mc about my missing bibliography. She was a bit annoyed to say the least, and asked me to ask around to see who else had missing bibliographies. During the day we discovered fourteen or fifteen other people, and most people hadn’t even checked.

In European History, Mr S gave us our Congress of Vienna essays. He gave me fifteen on twenty five, remarking underneath “Good try, G, you have good style and the right idea.” We should be worried about marks less than 12.

At lunchtime I went to a meeting over the Hansard Society /BBC Competition to produce a radio programme on current affairs. We’re doing the 300 Group. My job is to search out Ann Taylor, former MP for Bolton.

I heard the Sportsnews. In the next round of the UEFA Cup we play PSV Eindhoven. I think they’re Belgium.

I watched a Week in Politics on Channel Four. They featured Behind the Scenes organisation at the Labour Party Conference on Composite motions. Fascinating.

I read – and, yes, try and believe this if you can – I reached the end of that book that fabulous book – by that incomparable author RF Delderfield. Yes you’ve guessed it, Theirs Was the Kingdom.

In my free lesson I read the New Statesman.

I watched the News at Ten – only I missed the second half because Mother and Father decided that they would have a row with Pauline. God knows why – it just doesn’t seem worth all the hassle, all the aggro, all the meaningless, repetitious drivel. All it means is that Pauline and I have no respect for them.

After break we had PE. We did netball the whole time. It was great. I've added to the dimensions of netball. Flinging myself at the ball in order to get it, I sort of missed, instead flinging myself to the ground. I kept throwing it into the semicircle, thinking that Ruth or Janet could rush in and get it. Poor old Sam had to rush in each time.

In Registration Mrs Pathetic was going on about her brand of religion. We were very good inasmuch as we didn’t laugh, but I, for one, was close. Nobody met the eyes of anybody else, least of all Mr S. He looked as if he was going to laugh.

RE was really boring. We did another of Miss J’s tedious worksheets – this one on Islam.

Today, I proved my theory that although I hear things on the six thirty news, I don’t take them in. For instance, the major item I forgot until it came up for discussion in the Common Room. A bomb went off at the Tory Hotel (the Grand) in Brighton. Thatcher was working – it was about three o’clock. Her bathroom was totally destroyed. Norman Tebbitt was trapped for three hours, after falling three floors down. His wife and the Chief Whip have been in Intensive Care. One MP is missing.

I had a blazing row with Louise in Italian (I assume this means in the Italian lesson, rather than actually in the language we had been studying all of five weeks) and she’s not speaking to me now.

The News was mainly to do with the IRA explosion in Brighton. You do wonder about the mentality of such people. I mean, I’m not an admirer of the Government but I would never consider attempting to annihilate them by cold-blooded violence. Quite apart from humanitarian and compassionate reasons – and they are sufficient enough – in pure practical terms, it would be an absolute waste of time. All this type of action does is to draw attention to your cause, but it’s not even favourable attention. It merely strengthens the resolve of the government to combat your type of terrorism, so you gain nothing. Supposing Margaret Thatcher and Norman Tebbitt (the man widely tipped as a natural successor to Thatcher) had been killed – both came very close, obviously I have mentioned Tebbitt’s broken legs and chest injuries. Well, Maggie escaped death by minutes – her bathroom was destroyed and she had been in it only moments before the explosion. Well, if she had died, someone following the same policies, perhaps even more severe due to the assassination. What gain? Nothing.

If you had said to me twenty-four hours ago that I would be filled with pity for the Trade and Industry Secretary, I would have laughed in your face.
(marginalia– Dear Gert this sounds a little unlike you love Gert 11/10/85)

Today has been fantastic. I went out to town. All I did in town was go to Central Library. After I had finished there, I caught the bus to Old Trafford. Having entered the ground, I sat down (at the Stretford End) and read my United Review. When I finished that I started reading a biography of Metternich, but didn’t get very far because my friends from Longsight arrived, and I was chatting to them. They’re great, especially Ashouk.

(Lots and lots of narrative and analysis of the match – United beat West Ham five nil).

At lunchtime I chatted to Andrea. Louise was around but she’s till in a sulk over me. The poor thing. To be candid, I don’t give a fart. If I have a disagreement with someone like Andrea or Judy (well, I don’t have disagreements all that often with Jude) it really upsets me. I feel as if I've hurt them and want to make it up. But Louise, no. I just wish for her sake she would grow up.

Nano-hiatus

What with one thing and another I don't expect I shall have much time to update this between now and Friday, so in the interim, I shall draw your attention to the fact that I have been spasmodically updating Under Developed over the past few weeks:

I shall remind myself to write about - Saturday pm; Munro bagging in Camden; drugs; and heights.

In the meantime, if you click the link, here is the rest of October 1983, the year when we began to think seriously about O-Levels...

October 1983 Part 1

I watched On The Ball, and a snippet of news that saddened me. This was that Steve Coppell has quit football – after seeing the specialist, he has decided that there’s no hope with his knee. That’s tragic for someone who’s made 350 appearances for United and scored nearly 70 goals.

I am terribly upset at this. I can unequivocally say that he was my first hero – sporting or otherwise – and since I first started admiring him, back in 1976 or so, I have never stopped.

Norwich and United drew – and we were three up at one stage.

October 1982

4th year at school - what they now call Year 10
(on paper salvaged from last year’s exercise books)
footnotes at the bottom

In Maths we did differentiation. Yawn yawn. In history we started Nicholas, Alexandra and Rasputin. (1)

Before French, Emma H told me that one of the Southampton players in Steve Moran(2). At Break I deduced how Piccadilly found out about the names of the So’ton players. Obviously, there were Pressmen travelling to Norrkoeping, and they were aware of whom was travelling with the squad, and were also aware of who wasn’t travelling back. And the Press are notorious for not keeping secrets.

In Music with Frog Features we listened to Enigma Variations. But of course the one with the cement foundation and the emulsion paint lipstick talked all the way through. (3)

I listened to the five o’clock news. The two Southampton players are Steve Moran and Mark Wright. They've been remanded in custody until Monday when they appear before magistrates who decide whether to send them for trial. If they go for trial and are found guilty, they could be jailed for up to four years. On the TV news the chairman of Southampton was interviewed and said one of the players was mistakenly identified and the other isn’t even accused of anything.

I drifted in and out of SuperStore, introduced by Mike Read. I had a nice surprise when Adam Ant appeared, looking as nice as ever. And Magda and Clare are at Drama classes, so will have missed it! Adam was interviewed wearing his black leather jacket, black t-shirt and tight black leather trousers. He has a new band who made their first performance last night.

Luton and Manchester United drew.
I watched Match Time – Luton v United. I won’t be bothered to give a player by player analysis for the highlights were too short.

At lunch I went to the library, where I did my history homework. Andrea M and Siobhan read my story (Judy is away at a piano competition in Southport).
In double PE we did netball. I scored three goals! I walked down to Alty with Andrea M and Clare. Going through the Police car park I saw a bloke who I thought I recognised. I tried to work out who he was and then I realised it was Dennis Tueart. Wait until I tell Andrea Bu!

Clare and I messed around in Boots, admiring various pieces of Art.

In Maths we played on the computer. It is most interesting.

In choir we sang Praise the Lord (4), which I love more and more every time we sing it.

In double Music we were given a slide show of Robert Schumann and Mrs Bt explained the details of syphilis from which R. Schumann suffered.

I watched the News. Steve Moran and Mark Wright are free men due to a lack of evidence.

Judy won her piano competition on Monday – the same competition that her Mum won in 1955 and Anna Markland in 1978, so who knows!

In DS we made Chelsea buns. Mine started as a disaster for I put in twice as much milk as I should have done, so I had to do them again. My temper was at snapping point by the end of the lesson.

I caught the bus home with Ellie and Jane. Ellie told me Martin F’s phone number and confirmed what Kathy told me some time ago that he is on schoolboy terms with United.

I went to the dentist. Mr B told me that he reckons I am nearly finished with my brace.

I listened to The Correct Use of Soap by Magazine which Clare's brother's friend lent to Luke ages ago and Clare has now lent to me. I adore The Song From Under the Floorboards.

I walked up to school with Juliette, the nauseating pain. In Double French we were supposed to do an essay in rough but although Clare and I did it hurriedly, we spent much of the time writing a fan letter to Scott McGarvey.
At lunch I chatted with Jude and Andrea. Jude was saying that Marie (5) knows Kevin Moran and is thinking of inviting him round for tea. Last night Judy dreamt that she came home and he was sitting in the lounge. She’s very much into Kevin.

I caught the bus with Ellie who doesn’t have to any homework cos her Mum walked out last week so Ellie has to do all the work for her Dad and Tim.

At the end of the news I learnt that Steve Smith is captaining the English RU team against the Fijians on Saturday week. Only then did I realise that both England’s soccer and rugger teams are captained by players who are based in the Borough of Trafford.

I had my supper watching some of the Commonwealth Games Marathon. It seemed strange to watch something that took place tomorrow (6).

I caught the 264 with Magda and helped her do her French essay. We both bought Look In because the centre spread is Adam, plus the football feature is Norman Whiteside!

In Latin we did not a lot, to quote Andrea and I would agree! In History we did the Russian-Japanese war and Sandra had a fit every time Japan was mentioned!

At lunch I chatted to Jude, Andrea and Siobhan about Manchester United, London, British Politics, German Politics, Israeli Politics, Irish Politics and many other subjects besides. Only when we were discussing what we discussed did we realise that we had not mentioned sex!

Just as I was finishing my maths homework, Daddy came home and gave me a digital watch (because my other broke a couple of weeks ago).

I watched the News. Most of it was devoted to the award of medals in the Falklands War.

I took down my England pin-up from the walls and replaced it with one of the League leaders: Manchester United.

I read The Giant Golden Mother Goose

At school Magda told me some news, which I am totally and thoroughly green with envy of. She went to the Andalucia Spanish Restaurant in Didsbury and who was there…Gary Bailey. She says he is totally lovely, and very pleasant. She admires his fine, flaxen hair and his dimples, and was most impressed buy the khaki green suede jacket and matching cords, white shirt and white boots. Apparently, he looked a right poser leaning on the bar. Magda invited him to dance the Flamenco. And they did, together, although he has two left feet. She also got his autograph. I've seen it.

In DS Mrs M was in the foulest of moods imaginable. She set us a test tomorrow as EXTRA homework.

At break Magda described more of her Saturday night adventure. Gary wears contact lenses.

I watched a REALLY amazing Horizon film about all that happens before, at, and after the moment of conception – all from within the body. I was really knocked out!

I mentioned the idea of me taking Math to United Reserves v Liverpool Reserves. Mater et Pater do not seem turned off by the idea.

I listened to Timmy on the Tranny. Clare and Magda were on, dribbling. Then they phoned me and went on and on and on about talking to Cuddles (did I mention that he’s back) and Timmy. (7)

I had a row with Mum and Dad because of a pack of lies that Pauline told them. I really hate mother, and nothing will ever make me like her. I prefer father, not much. I sobbed myself to breathlessness and gave myself a headache, and there was a repercussion of the row.

Today was the last ever edition of the Sale Guardian

In Maths we got our homework back. I got 0 on 10. Oh dear. Yet Mrs N was quite pleasant about it. In Latin we did an oral translation. It’s funny, sometimes you get a sentence which you can easily translate quick as a flash, and others, you can’t even find where to start looking for a beginning.

Lunchtime was brill. There was a whole load of us and we had a merry time exchanging ideas and displaying our talents.

I watched Football Focus. It was a good programme for United fans like myself. There was a long feature on Gary Bailey. He has a Physics degree and is now studying for a masters degree in computing. I now know his car registration number RVU 76X. They showed United in training. At the end of the programme there was an interview with the new chairman of the PFA – Steve Coppell.

I turned off the radio at 1639 despairing of the deadlock being broken in the Liverpool v United match. I watched the match on Match Time. It was a fair to middling match as far as football was concerned but considering the wet and windy conditions one could not expect a match of the quality of Brazil. As far as camera technique, I was very impressed.

At home I flicked through the bulk of the boring, stuffy and Conservative Sunday Telegraph.

In History we continued with the Russian Revolution of 1905. I was so bored I watched the 1st year Humanities Group. It is strange to think how childish they look, yet at that age we reckoned ourselves to be dead brill!

From choir I returned to the classroom with Clare and Magda. 4P began to drift in aimlessly with the look of the proverbial drowned rat. I made smug comments and then got my sympathy working. Fiona D made a disparaging comment and half strangled me so, instead of counting to ten, I let the bubble burst and hit. She cast aspersion son me so I really saw red. We had a bit of a punch up and I said some nasty things, although I kept my choicest language in reserve.

I listened to Timmy on the Tranny. He chatted to Adam Ant (yes!) who was in a dry sarcastic but funny mood.

Instead of DS was harvest festival. We sang beautifully (quote Spot) and horribly (quote Voyant). (8)

At Break I chatted with Trisha and she said she is always having United players popping into her shop – Ray Wilkins was in only last night.

I caught the 264 alone, but Martin F was on – and smiled at me!!!!!

In Re we had a test – awful. In French we checked over our homework. I hate French: can’t cope. In DS we made chocolate Swiss roll and scones. Only trouble – there was a misprint on the recipe, so the sponge was not chocolate.

On the news, John de Lorean has been nicked in LA on a drugs charge. It seems that he was dealing in cocaine to help meet his financial burden in Belfast.

Sinn Fein have already won two seats in the Ulster Assembly. Ian Paisley has been elected in North Antrim. The system of voting is PR, transferable. The Official Unionists and Democratic Unionists are neck and neck.

I caught the 264 with Kathy and Angela. Martin got on at the next stop, dressed in lovely tight jeans, a grey shirt and a maroon v-neck. He was in a real witty mood. He’s dead nice.

In the evening I caught the bus from outside the library. Because those yobbos (‘lend me ten pence’) from the Racecourse were on, I stayed downstairs.

I did my 60 minutes English homework in 4 mins flat – it was only reading two pages of Wuthering Heights.

Then disaster struck – I spilt me coffee on the sitting room floor. Panic stations alerted, so I soused it avec water, and was sat there wetting myself while trying to dry it with the hairdryer. Then whom should walk in but mother, who had a few kittens on me

I got some new trainers from Timpsons on George Street.

We went out shopping in Ashton-on-Mersey and then joined the M63 in Urmston. We got on the M62 around Bolton and the M55 around Preston. Then we drove to Blackpool and round the back way to Clevelys where we went for a walk on the beach. Then we had tea and drove to Little Bispham and caught the tram along the Prom, all the way to Starr Gate. The illuminations were pretty bazzing, including laser beams from the South Pier. Then we caught the tram back to Little Bispham and had a cup of coffee. Then we drove back home and I was nearly asleep.

October '81 Part 2

I watched Swap Shop. Ted Heath was on, talking about the Third World.

I went out to Sale and met up with Kathy. At the Odeon was The Jazz Singer, which was fabulous. I cried. I think Neil Diamond is gorgeous. Kramer vs Kramer was pretty good but not as good as The Jazz Singer.

In Needlework Mrs Bn made me undo all my beautiful (you have to be joking) stitching.

At lunchtime, Andrea Bu taught me do one side of The Cube. I’m dead chuffed!

I watched the News. The unemployment figures are 2,988,644. No doubt Maggie will be celebrating because they are down 10,000. She will be saying ten thousand is ten thousand is ten thousand. But so what, two million, nine hundred and ninety eight thousand, six hundred and forty four is two million, nine hundred and ninety eight thousand, six hundred and forty four is two million, nine hundred and ninety eight thousand, six hundred and forty four.

I caught the 264. Siobhan was on. On the way up to school we had a big political argument. SHE IS A BLOODY THATCHERITE! I will pray for her.

In Chemistry Mr D didn’t say anything to Clare and I about our not going up to the staffroom for our detentions!

When I got up Pauline told me that Bill Pitt has won the Croydon bi-election.

I fancy Phil Oakey. I have since Thursday.

I finished reading Brideshead Revisited. I think is ace – the best book I have ever read.

United won at Anfield! The top of the table goes 1st) the best team in the world - Manchester United. Okay they have played two more matches, but they won six points from those. So.

There is a huge CND rally in London today – the estimation was about 150,000.

I went to 11.15 Mass. Danny was there!

There have been CND marches in Brussels, Paris and East Berlin.

I watched the News. Britain have won a £600,000,000 deal from Brazil. I don’t know what for.

A bomb has exploded in Oxford Street killing one man, a bomb disposal man.

The deal with Brazil is six ships and naval equipment.

October 1981

I was thirteen, going on fourteen.

Silvine Red Exercise Book. On the front is GMCC + MUFC, the names of all the Manchester United players at the time. On the back is a Metric table/Conversion table. I have written “Important Fact: Manchester United=Fantastic”

In Latin, we did translation. Miss F says Fiona, Emma and I talk too much.

In Chemistry we did carbon dioxide but in the second lesson we went for a sex talk with the health visitor. There was a film, which was really crumby. if my memory serves me right it was of Fifties teenagers dancing to explain how girls are attracted to boys and boys are attracted to girls

After school, I went to the doctors. Dr E was quite interested in my broken finger but more in eczema. He said it can be brought on by mental things, such as ‘when Manchester United lose – you are Red, aren’t you?’

On Look NorthWest they said Bryan Robson is to sign for Manchester United tonight for £1½ million. Asa Hartford has signed for Manchester City for £350,000. As David Davies said, “Just another day in the life of Manchester football. One day we will interview the bank managers of United and City” I’m really pleased that Bryan Robson will be coming to Old Trafford. Isabel (she’s Blue, of course) has his name on her rough book. I wonder how long that will stay!

After Registration I went to the hospital. I had to give details such as do I live with both parents and what is my religion.
I went down into Altrincham and bought ‘My Party’ by Dave Stewart and Barbara Gaskin. I went home and went out to meet Matthew from the bus. I heard the news on Piccadilly. Bryan Robson has definitely signed for the world’s greatest football team. I wrote this and watched Crackerjack. Ooh I could crush a grape, I could dust a daffodil, I could jump off a dolls’ house, could pop a balloon.

Weird again

I've just had a phone call from Ria. We were at school together (she was in the year below) but we haven't been in touch for a couple of years. My mate Dave from university used to live next door to her in Peckham.

Her daughter has just started school in Forest Hill. As she was collecting her she recognised one of the other Mums as being Gabriel, who was in the year above me. They chatted briefly, and will, obviously, keep seeing each other.

"Wasn't Gabriel in The Boyfriend?" asked Ria.

"I'm not sure...wasn't that in 1983. Would you be really shocked if I said I happen to have my 1983 diaries right in front of me now...?"

And I was able to confirm that Gabriel was indeed Polly in the Boyfriend in March 1983...

October 1980

We went up to the staffroom, and Mr L. was there having a drink. He said hello, and now I’m the envy of Kathy. Mr L. was my percussion teacher. In an all girls school a young reasonably good looking man had cult status. In this extract I assume I mean coffee. Unfortunately, poor Mr L. got in the Guardian for allowing timpanum to fall off stage during a live broadcast whilst he was drunk. Sadly, he died a couple of years later.

In Latin I was bored again and I was talking to Andrea J. Miss F asked if I was talking, and I said yes, so she asked if it was a common habit so I said yes.

Ann-Marie B was being totally immature, and said that Kathy ’s a real creep, and I stood up (loosely speaking) for Kathy. Ann Marie wanted to make friends with MOI (that’s me), but I said would she make friends with Kathy, and she said no. I told her she needn’t attempt a false friendship with me, and not even pretend to be friendly with one of my best friends.
We also heated iodine which looked like a witches brew, or so I said. I also suggested that p’raps Mrs R was the witch. But that *BITCH* of an Ann-Marie said that it was Kathy’s. Oh yes, Ann-Marie said that Kathy ought to bring an apple for Mrs S tomorrow.
I use to think that Ann-Marie was real nice but now I know a LOT different. She is, how shall I put it? common, bad mannered and selfish. That’s it she’s selfish. I’m pleased with that description.

I arrived at school at ten to nine. I wished I had never arrived at all. Mme H was in her usual mood – bad. She gave back the tests – AND detentions. I attained 16 on 30 (I wasn’t able to do the last ten on Monday ‘cos I was at my percussion lesson). She said THAT was below half marks I’m going to beg Mummy not to sign the slip.
After tea I did my ruddy French. Mummy and Daddy say I have to do the detention.

In Latin we were doing adjectives. Miss F said that quite often the endings aren’t the same as the nouns. Everyone groaned, but I said ‘Oh good, more work to do’. She said she liked my attitude. Then we were talking about Rome. She said that there are three Romes a) the classical Rome b) the Renaissance Rome and c) the modern Rome, which isn’t very nice. I said it’s full of cops singing about Cornettos. She just laughed.

I caught the 264. Josie and Snoopy were on it and Snoopy was creating because he had been given the slipper twice because Josie had drawn on his books.

In detention we had Mrs R. When everyone had gone she was talking to us about behaviour and she asked who the form captain was. I put my hand up and everyone laughed. She asked who the deputy was. Mel put her hand up – more laughter.

After Registration, I had to take the register up and in consequence I was late for French. Mme Frog told me the next time I was late I’ll have to stand in the corridor.

We went to Southport. Needless to say the sea was out of sight.

Wouldn't you have loved to have been in 2S in 1980/81?

Weirdness

Karen at Uborka has been publishing extracts from the diary of a younger Karen. Last night I remembered that on my PC I have the results of an exercise where I went through my diary and edited out the bits where I list my breakfast, or who was on TOTP. I think I did this as raw material for a novel about being an adolescent.

I have been drafting an entry which I may post later when I have refined it. It includes the phrase

I suspect that it would be of more meaning to me if I had read Beowulf sometime in the last 22 years.

Idly I have opened the 'Diary Extract' folder, the earliest one is October 1980. Monday 6 October includes

we then went to History. We had a story of Beowulf read. I drew a face on my hand.

Weird?