October 13th 1981

Just to polish off yesterday properly – there wasn’t room to include this.  I’d developed a rotten cold, + by the end of yesterday evening was in a pretty poor state, somehow driving home with a sneezing fit going on.  In any case, come the morning I was still feeling pretty rough, so I stayed in bed till about 10, dozing, finishing my book, + generally feeling sorry for myself.  Struggled up + went out to work with Val for a while, but I don’t think I was a lot of help, and at a little after 12 I came back to the cabin, made myself a cup of tea + a cheese sandwich, + sat reading the National Lampoon magazine, an old copy of which was lying around the cabin.  It’s like a dirty version of Punch, + there was some good stuff in it.  I rejoined Val at about 2, feeling considerably better, + we both worked really well, in order to be able to finish 6 bins.

We started dinner, + I popped down to the store to get some shopping.  My main reason was to buy a newspaper to find out how West Ham did – it served me right, there was no result.  Then I went to fetch James for supper, but he’d obviously given up on us, + had already eaten.  He still came round, + shared some spaghetti with us.  He was OK, but his English is pretty limited, so it’s difficult to have a proper conversation, even more difficult to relate by humour, my first means of communication.  In any case, however churlish it may seem, we were rather relieved when he went.

Got a letter from mum yesterday, sounds as tho’ she had a good holiday.  Says she wonders how we’ll settle down when we get home.  I wonder the same thing.  I’ve almost decided to at least try for a decent drama school – I think I’ve hated very nearly every job I‘ve ever tried, so I might as well have a go at doing something I enjoy.

Yet another day of me missing work.  And I was feeling sorry for myself – when was it ever different!? That old sense of humour thing comes up again; it really does seem to be my only way of getting through to anyone, certainly the main measure that I use to judge them.

As for drama school, well, that didn’t happen either.  Though probably just as well, knowing what I now know of how difficult it is to make any sort of a proper living.  On the whole, I am not unhappy at the choices I have made with my career, and have probably been more involved with theatre than if I had tried to be an actor.  But who’s to say?