June 29th 1981

Up only just in time for breakfast, which we duly ate – not anything wonderful, but quite filling.  We had planned to spend the day in the park, but unfortunately the day was grey.  Nonetheless, we did wander out, tho’ rather half-heartedly so, with the vague intention of maybe going there.  En route, stopped off at a supermarket and bought some food, and then sat + read the paper while waiting for another shop, one with an Indian blanket in it, to open… in vain.  Eventually gave up, and deciding that the day was too cold for the park, set off back to the hotel.  There was also the possibility that we would be working the next day, getting up early, so we needed some rest.  Stopped off at a blood clinic, which bought plasma – interesting – and at a good bookshop – second hand.  Had some terrific books in it, but all we bought was a 25c paperback… ho hum.  Then we returned for tea, and just lazed around a while.  A little after 8, I went to… yes, the Spaghetti factory, for a workshop, and Val accompanied me as far as the grocers, where she bought some bread for the morning.  I got a bit lost on the way to the workshop, but just about arrived in time.  The class was taken by Blaine Palmer, the administrator of Spaghettijam, but it really wasn’t anything special.  His ideas for starting impros were not very original, but then, neither were Jim’s.  The big difference was that Jim’s comments afterwards were both clear + helpful, while Blaine was really rather woolly.  I think that I could have done equally well.  Of my own work, about half was OK, and the other half was really quite ropey.  Still, there was a really attractive girl there, called Jennifer, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.  Actually, it was good practice, and it gave me a chance to say hello to a few people.  And then I walked back, stopping only to buy a Snickers (aka Marathon) because I was famished.

Well, that must be the most inane post yet, full of possibilities and might haves, but very little substance.  The comment on Jennifer’s attractiveness seems gauche, but does, I suppose, reflect the basic honesty of the posts – if I thought something, I wrote it.  I can only assume that Val, who did read the diary from time to time, did not find the comment too offensive.