Slipping Back on Golden Times...

Monday November 8 1982. 

I'm supposed to be writing an essay on Marxist Theories of History, but I need a break from Dialectical Materialism as it's giving me a headache. Fortunately my broken bedroom window - smashed during the party by a stupid grob* who decided he needed to open it in a hurry so he could be sick, so put his head through it - has been mended so I just had the one night of sleeping in a freezing wind tunnel. I tried so hard to find out which grob it actually was, but they all stuck together in silence and wouldn't tell me. Wankers. 

I suppose it was a typical student party, not that I had anything to compare it with. C came over from Concrete University, and L came up from London (L told me JA had asked why she hadn't been invited and she'd made up some story about lack of beds, ha ha. I'm sure she found something else to do, and as long as it didn't involve M I don't care what it was.) so I had a couple of good friends on hand, and as I was holding the drinks kitty along with little C from downstairs, we all trooped down to Woolco on the Saturday morning to buy the stuff. No wonder the locals here hate students - little families all doing their weekly shopping, while the four of us held up the queue with a trolley loaded with booze and crisps, and then counted out a hundred and ten quid in cash (£110!!) to pay for it. They'd have hated us even more if they knew that 'the organisers'  (me and little C) were keeping back a bottle of Malibu as our reward for doing all the organising. 

We all got dressed up far too early. I put a few colours in my hair and Debs got upset over the length of my leather skirt - she couldn't believe I used to get on the bus in it to go out for the night. She knows nothing. Sharon looked fantastic as a Playboy Bunny**and K looked a bit fat as a Pierrot but at least most people made an effort. Jo went as Paddington Bear and still managed to look quite pretty and cute. As we were ready and waiting, little C and I opened the Malibu and made a start on it (she copped out a bit with her outfit, just wore Pink.). Skinny Paul was the first boy to arrive, all in white so I asked him if he'd come as a Pipecleaner, when apparently they were surgical theatre clothes and he was supposed to be a Physician. Apparently he was offended by that!! Andy C came as a Priest, and then Robin arrived at the door in his normal clothes but with his mouth full of milk, which he then spat all over the floor and said he'd come as Premature Ejaculation. We weren't sure whether or not to let him in but then little C keeled over backwards from the Malibu and started vomiting. We had to drag her by her feet into her room, and prop her up with pillows while she was sick, then we had to leave her to get back to the door but most people had just come in anyway by then. The house was overrun and the punch vanished in about ten minutes. I made sure there was some decent music on, but of course that didn't last long once Charlotte the Harlot*** got her hands on the tape deck. Blondie, Blondie and more Blondie. How boring.

Things got worse. L had finished off the Malibu, and decided she didn't feel well and needed a bath (trust her...). So she went off and had one, which therefore meant one of the bathroom loos was out of use as well, so disgusting boys started pissing in some of the sinks (mine being one, from the smell in my room.). When L had had her bath, she apparently opened the window wearing just a towel, and a grob that was leaning out of a window opposite spotted her, climbed out, and started clambering across the pitched roof to get her. She had to slam the window and get most of her clothes on in seconds. While all this was happening Robin was giving me a lecture on how I'd only ever have half the real University experience because of having a boyfriend at home. He got really mouthy and accused me of being a coward and just playing at being a student, which made me really angry and then really upset. I ended up hiding in Debs' room with Jane, who was crying because she and Paul had had a row. I was sick in K's bin, although Jane told me I did it very elegantly. Next thing Paul appeared, she burst into fresh tears, he scooped her off the bed and carried her out. What a pair of poseurs. I fell asleep there and woke up feeling terrible with poor K clinging to half the bed. She hadn't had the heart to move me. 

I'd arranged for M to ring me yesterday at 4 and made sure nobody else got near the phone, but he didn't ring. I hung round for fifteen minutes, but then Sharon needed to ring her Mum so I had to give up. I thought about phoning him, but he'd said in his letter that he'd ring me as it saves me having to keep a stack of 10p bits to hand (though he has to tell his Mum that he's on the phone to Bob.). If it hadn't been such a lovely letter I'd have worried a bit, but it was full of amazing things ("you are about a thousand times more stimulating than anyone I've ever met"!!!). So I suppose there's nothing to worry about and I'm just tired. I expect I'll hear from him in the week. I'm not phoning him though, why should I?

I'd better get back to the essay. Got my ticket for Simple Minds next month at Municipal Hall today! I'll have finished a whole term here by then, assuming I don't leave. 

*A local corruption of 'grebo', used to disparagingly describe any white male with long hair who sported a leather jacket.

**It was an 'Anything Beginning with P' party. Ho ho bloody ho. 

***Public schoolgirl daughter of a Neurosurgeon. Did 'baby voices'. Small and spiteful. I hated her. Probably still would.