Portrait of a Schoolboy

Sunday 16 Jan 2005

January, 2005: Epilogue

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:25 am

Hi. I hope you enjoyed that. I’m now, aged 38, just about to put it on the internet – with the aid of my cousin Mark.

It would be great to receive any comments that you would like to make at


If anyone’s interested I’m working on the sequels and have completed:

  • Book 2 “Portrait of a Student”.
  • Book 3 “Portrait of Some Raspberries”.
  • Book 4 “Portrait of a Fresher Fireman”.
  • Book 5 “Towards Doomsday”.
  • Book 6 “Portrait of a Cohabiting Couple”.

I am currently working on, and have nearly completed Book 7, “Portrait of a Man with Babies”.

However due to the increasingly personal nature of the diaries I am, at present, only willing to divulge up to maybe the “Raspberries”.

There will be a total of nine books – and hopefully more assuming life continues.

As I say any comments would be warmly welcomed, even if they are negative in nature.

Hope to hear from you,



Tuesday 16 Oct 1984

October, 1984: The End

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:22 am


The day I go away. The day I leave home. I left on my motorbike, packed and weighted down with all my luggage.

Wednesday 05 Sep 1984

September, 1984

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:20 am


At F.O.Y., prompted by the things I’d been saying, Christine said, “I don’t know how you can call yourself a Christian.” I said that I don’t think I am a Christian, and if I “don’t think” (have doubts) then I can’t be.” Christine walked out.

F.O.Y. consisted of a talk by an evangelist called, “I love the Lord” – words from Psalms. There comes my unique situation. I believe most of the Bible and because I believe it, I don’t love “the Lord”. He’s a right swine really. What bugs me is that he could see what was going to happen and yet he went on and created the world – and anyway how can any evil, no matter at what level, come out of a situation where there was nothing but apparent pure good/love. The evangelist said, “If the Lord comes now, 51 million people in Britain will go to everlasting hell.” Heavy.


I was woken up this morning with mum kissing and hugging me saying that she’d had a dream that I’d gone away and was never coming back.


I went to bed and saw a box in my bedroom full of Dinah’s university books. On top was a green velvet box, probably designed for jewellery. Out of curiosity I opened it, and underneath the first layer was a compartment full of letters. They were from Kenny. I read the first letter amazed by the desperation of the man. I was reading another letter when Dinah knocked on the door. I knew it was her but all I could say was, “Come in.” I looked up at her guiltily, knowing that she was going to find out. Her love letters were all over the floor. She said, “Oh, you’re not reading my love letters.” She didn’t seem that upset about it though. They were history anyway. Here’s an example…. (I go on to write out the juicy bits).


Christine leaves tomorrow for Birmingham to do physiotherapy. Off course the fact that I’m leaving in twenty days lessens the blow. It’s strange how she has had this hold on me for all these years. Only once did I have anything that could be called a romance with her – at camp in 1979. I always wanted to be with her, and that hasn’t changed.


Recently I read Thomas Hardy’s “Well Beloved”, and it occured to me, not for the first time, how quickly we age. At twenty we are only twenty years away from forty, which is in turn only twenty years away from sixty. Only forty years after my twentieth birthday I’ll be sixty, an old man. Death at the moment seems far away, and after all, I have my life in front of me. I guess this is an exciting time of my life, but it is occuring to me that at some time I will die, I will no longer be here. I am young now and I want to make an impression on the world. I want people to recognise me. I am, “Ambitious of doing to the world some good”. (Keats).


Sometimes all I can do is simply admire my surroundings, even in East Anglia which isn’t meant to be extra special. When I ride through the county lanes I go slowly to take in the beauty. As I go to work in the mist and damp air, the morning freshness excites me. As I look down on a beautiful cottage bathed in sunshine, with their children, goats and pigs, I envy the owners.


One aspect of dad’s character is that he is very cool, very rarely showing any temper when it would normally be expected. This characteristic worked to my advantage today when I went and crashed the family car.

I was driving to Russell’s farm to pick some apples to make wine out of. As I pulled out of the farm I looked right and left, but should have looked right again before I pulled out. I saw a car approaching, smoke bellowing out of its wheels. As it broke I could only hope it stopped in time, but there wasn’t much chance. Any faint hope was dashed when the car hit me.

I told mum and dad about it. Mum went into the garden in a despairing attitude, saying that she didn’t want to know. I invited dad to have a look but he went after mum.

I made myself scarce for twenty minutes or so and then we returned to discuss things. I offered to make up money lost. Those seven sacks of apples will be the most expensive apples I’ll ever have.


People have asked me my feelings concerning going to Froebel. In fact I haven’t worried much. Perhaps I should do, because it’s usually me who bodges things up.

I’m apprehensive but also excited. New people, new experiences a new life. A life in the heart of London the capital of England. They’ll be a lot going on, and as long as I am sensible, my money will last.

I’m not worried about making friends or popularity. They’ll come in due course.

Wednesday 01 Aug 1984

August, 1984

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:20 am


The month when all is revealed. The month that will either be depressing or relieving. It’s a black and white situation. I either get two A levels or I don’t. I either go to Froebel or I don’t.


I’d prefer to be a Christian who is really hot than the way I am now. I’m reminded of the verse, “If you are luke warm I will spew you out of my mouth”. At the moment I’m on the fence. Even my strict rule about no sex before marriage is fading out. Masturbation used to be difficult because I would be dreaming up a horny situation and I’d come to the crunch and I’d always refuse intercourse because of my values. Now I don’t find it so difficult to forget my Christianity.


Rachel asked, “Why do we write a diary?” Her suggestion was that it makes us feel more important than we really are. Are people actually going to read and be interested in our life stories? She may have a point there. I think the prime reason I do a diary is because I want to record my life. I don’t just want it to pass.


I’ve got a bit of a tough image at Pleasurewood Hills. A real tougho (hunky, tattoos etc) was clenching his fist and punching the wall. In my usual polite and comparatively posh voice I said, “Do you think you can punch hard?” I then gave him the invitation to hit me as hard as he wanted in the stomach. However I did warn him before hand that I wanted the hardest thump he could manage, and also told him to make sure he didn’t bend his wrist or else he might hurt himself. This was about two and a half weeks ago, and since then I have been hit countless times. Another thing I have in my power to impress people is to hold my breath. My record is 3 minutes 1 second.


I discovered another of my talents this evening. I went to the Beccles Regatta, and one of the attractions put on show for the public was a beer drinking contest. While I watched, the “Yard of Ale” record, went down from 51 to 45 seconds. Then a bloke went up and downed the whole lot in 17 seconds. I overcame my shyness that I had and went on stage and downed the lot in 17.8 seconds. Later on I had another go and managed 16 seconds, but came third overall.


I have been known to boast to you about my kind and caring attitude towards the customers at Pleasurewood Hills, however I did find a limit to my kindness. Shawn advised me that we ought to tell our boss about Vernon. He’s an absolute manic on the Vereran Cars, lifting the handle up to start them when people are half way in the car. I’ve witnessed his madness, and also when I relieve Vernon for his dinner I find that people getting in and out the cars, are hesitant and afraid – looking at me to see if I am going to lift the handle. But my concern for the public didn’t go as far as reporting him, because no doubt if Vernon didn’t do the Veteran Cars, I would do the job more regularly, and I prefer doing the “Crazy Golf”. When I relieved Vernon today I simply said, “John (our boss) said would you buck up.” That made him sit up.


I think I’ve got the symptoms of being pregnant. About a week ago I found myself in agony on the bedroom floor going through cramp pains in the middle of the night. I hope I’m not.


Took Diana out for the day. It was all right except that it cost so much. At Great Yarmouth, Diana suggested the cinema. The film that was on was Super Girl. I jokingly asked her not to tell anyone what we had seen. While I was watching it, it occurred to me that this was the first time I had taken a girl to the cinema.

We seem to be having a bit of trouble with kissing. I believe her former boyfriend kissed a certain way with ones mouth fairly wide open. I’m not too familiar with that method and I like to feel the lips. We’ll have to get that sorted out if we go out again.


Recently I have even doubted whether miracles can take place. I think of all the miracle stories I’ve heard:

  1. At Spring Harvest a lady spoke about how she had been crippled for eighteen years and now she was healed.
  2. Nanna said she had a growth on her neck. Someone laid hands on it and it disappeared as he prayed.
  3. Mr. Halliday saw a leg grow so that the man no longer walked with a limp.

A man today said that he had x-ray evidence of his healing – but then if he has the evidence why isn’t it a bigger thing made of it? Maybe I’m a Thomas, but I’ve never seen a miracle, although I’ve heard cries during that Spring Harvest service.

At Pleasurewood Hills there was a girl who was lost. She came to me crying and distressed. I tried to cool her down saying everything would be all right. I took her to someone. About twenty minutes later some girl asked for some 20p coins. I immediately thought of the difference between the voice that asked for change and the other lost girl – but it turned out to be the same girl. “I’ve been found,” she said smiling all over. What a transformation.


I’m quite enjoying Pleasurewood Hills at the moment, but even so my day was livened up when this boy from the Veteran Cars came to chat to me. There’s this plastic orange in the “Crazy Golf” hut, and as I was handing out change to people, he was handing out the golf stuff. I’ve never laughed so much for ages when he gave this boy a golf club and a plastic orange instead of a golf ball. The boy went off and played with it.


I phoned Mr. Moxen. He said, “David – congratulations.” He told me I’d got a D in R.E., a D in history and an E in English. I was pleased. I’m now on my way to Froebel. I’m on my way to do a degree. I’m on my way to train myself as a teacher. I’m on my way for a life of leisure. At least I’m on my way, instead of staying where I am. I’m moving on.


The conversation at the end of the day at Pleasurewood Hills revolved around how great I was, and how average two other people were. Somehow the procedure of punching me in the stomach was enacted. Shawn hit me with all his might. I said, “I’m just too tough. In fact there’s only one person who could really hurt me and that’s myself.”

The subject then got on to someone else I’m not too fond of. I said to him, “I don’t think you have the potential to inflict hurt on anything. Just look at your arms.” The motive for this controlled polite attack was the way Stephen sometimes puts me down. He swears regularly, but it’s not pleasant when someone swears at you.

Ian said afterwards, “You were lucky you weren’t put upon.” I don’t think he understands. I’m not afraid of it. In fact I would relish the chance of a fight.

The only defence Shawn had, was to say, “Let me punch you in the face then. I bet you couldn’t take that?” Everybody knew what a stupid challenge that was. A reason Shawn may dislike me is because one time, about a week ago, he came into The Bin (our meeting place), and kicked and punched the coffee machine because it wasn’t working. I said to Ian straight in front of him that that’s what my younger brothers do. Obviously Shawn didn’t like to be compared to a child in a fit of temper. Apparently when I left Shawn was swearing, “That fucking bastard.”


I think if I ever have a son I shall call him Gavin after my late father. I didn’t ever know him very well, so it would be a tribute to him. After all, if it were not for him, I doubt whether I would be here.


The conversation after work on Friday is an example of one of my moods. Sometimes I feel very violent. After that incident I was a maniac going home on my motorbike. The speed limit was forgotten, and cars were ignored, as I over took on corners. Its a mixture of hate and excitement (and a desire to get home).

I read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde recently and I believe there is great truth in that. For instance when I was working the Veteran Cars a girl came up to me almost in tears and stuttered out that the steering wheel didn’t work. (It was stiff instead of going round). Believe it or not I nearly shed a tear for her and the countless other children’s tears and frustrations at those steering wheels.

Sunday 08 Jul 1984

July, 1984

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:19 am


I’m going through the same emotions I was feeling two years ago. The O levels had finished and I was waiting for the results. Surprisingly my heart has only fluttered a couple of times since the finish of my A levels compared with the countless times in 1982. There’s nothing I can do now though.

If I get three C’s I’ll think, “Yes I suppose I did do some very good essays.” If I get a D and two O’s I expect I’ll think, “Yes, I suppose I did do some really crummy essays.”


Tim said three weeks ago, “Everybody’s a bastard except you.” Today he said, “It’s good to have brothers.” He seems fonder of me than ever before. I’ve always admired and respected him, and it looks like I’m getting some of that back.


A lady congratulated me on my patience with the children today, however my former extreme patience has declined. On the bumper boats there was a boy who was irritating me because I was shouting, “Can you come in please,” but he was continuing to muck about. Eventually his boat hit a boat I was securing to the side, so that water spayed up and sprayed my face. I lost my temper and shouted, “CAN YOU COME IN NOW PLEASE.” His parents were nearby and understood.

Keeping the Veteran Cars going round, so that everything runs smoothly, is one of my priorities – and therefore when people are loading up and they are really taking their time, I’ll set the car going before it is fully loaded, if it seems I can get away with it. Usually this causes no hassle because people think it’s a mistake, or else they don’t mind. However when I separated a child from her family the father wasn’t at all pleased and used the occasion to use all the swear words he knew – at me. One can see the contrast in people when a few days later I did exactly the same thing and the mum and dad were smiling and joking about it.

All night I dreamt I was operating the Veteran Cars.


I’ve lent Andrew £200. I won’t get that back for years, but I won’t need it, and the interest payments on it are negligible, although a few days after I lent the money a money “Crisis” hit Britain, and the interest rate is going up 2%. Mrs. Thatcher told the House of Commons, “The economy is sound,” but in their typical manner they laughed long and loud.


I was on the “Fantasy Boat Ride” today, which requires that I press a start button over and over again. The best part of the day was between 1.30 – 2.30 when I was in a state of half sleep.


After a day on the Veteran Cars I rose out of my bed in my sleep and pulled over a cupboard, thinking I was pulling a car along, making all the things that were on top of the cupboard fall off.


At my R.E. teacher’s party I saw this fairly pretty girl. I waited patiently for a slow dance to come on, but in the end I went over and asked the bloke in charge of the music if he would put on a slow dance. He looked through his tapes and suggested Simon and Garfunkel. She was sitting in the hallway looking a bit bored. I whispered to Ian and Vanessa, “I think I’m on if she says yes.”

She danced and in the middle we kissed a few times. When the record had finished we stood there talking for a while until a fastish song came on. I led her to the hallway. We sat. I asked her if I could put my arm around her. We must have been sitting down two minutes when I said, “Do you want to go upstairs?” She just replied by saying yes and nodding her head. I led, she followed.

In the bedroom she picked up an object that was lying on the bed and started to talk about it. She gave it to me. I put it straight down and lowered her into the lying position and our mouths met. I don’t know how long we were up there, but I imagine something like forty-five minutes.

I was feeling her breast, but unlike with Caroline we were alone and she had a dress on, and so I felt her legs and thighs, rubbing her constantly saying how lovely she was. I thought I was well on the way when I started to kiss her neck but as I got lower down she moved her body upwards. She said, “I never thought you were like this.” I didn’t really attempt to feel her cunt, although she had these skimpy knickers on, and I felt just about everywhere else. I also made my first feeble attempt at a love bite, low down on the neck. I did notice though that our kissing wasn’t all that successful. When we were interrupted for the second time we went downstairs.


Mrs. Halliday said to me when I entered her front room that she didn’t recognise me at first. She said that I looked like a man now. One of the big questions is – When does a boy change into a man? Physically I haven’t developed. My wisdom teeth are half way there. I shave regularly but not as a man. Mentally I really don’t know. I reckon at the moment I’m a boy/man.


My history of girlfriends has been pretty non-existent however I had a date tonight. You could say my first real date.

I followed the map she’d drawn at the party the fifteen miles or so to her house. It was a lovely farm house with eleven acres. We were out from 8 to 11.30 and I never once tried to put my arm round her or try and kiss her or anything like that.

My opinion of Diana is very high. Physically she’s slim, quite tall and has got a slightly Roman nose and is well spoken. She’s just taken three A levels, and has got a hair cut like this though she is much more attractive than the diagram.


The quality of gullibility is never a nice one to have to admit, but I think at present I am a gullible person. I was taken in by the writings of Hal Lindsy in “The Late Great Planet Earth”, about the end of the world.

In my youth there was someone called Peter Pong who led me on a lot. I had my suspicions when he said he had an underground camp full of Penny Blacks.

There’s a person at Pleasurewood Hills who keeps on leading me on and then saying it’s just a wind up. I mentioned Mr. Larter, the owner of Pleasurewood Hills to him, and he said, “Did you see him fall over?”
I said, “No.” The discussion proceeded until I said, “What, he actually fell right over then?”
David Marler said, “Yea, they took him to the infirmary.”
I said, “Really,” in a surprised tone. I didn’t know what an infirmary was. I thought he meant First Aid. Another wind up. I think it’s because I’m not used to people lying to me.


After the party we went to Corton Beach in an opened topped car. I had a girl on my left and right. It was squashed and I put my arm around both of them. My first move was to feel the bottom of her tit. I moved further up but she wasn’t having that though. The girl on my left wasn’t so pretty but she was willing. I thought, “To hell with it.” She was cuddling up to my left arm. I felt her knee and got further down, but she wasn’t having that either. They weren’t rude refusals. Personally I thought they were unwilling refusals. Afterwards in my more sober state I could only laugh about it, and I’ll probably laugh about it with them.

I proceeded to get more drunk with wine and vodka. I was having a great time swimming and playing British Bull Dog. After all that activity we sat round in a circle singing. It was then that I started to regret the amount of alcohol consumed. I walked into the darkness had a wee and silently puked up.

On the way home I was largely silent, just trying my best not to puke up. It was twelve miles home. I walked upstairs, put my head out of the bedroom window and puked up. I then went to sleep very quickly.


I’ve always wondered why I’ve never had a hangover. I think I experienced my first this morning when mum woke me up. I was fully clothed including my shoes. It hadn’t occurred to me to change.

Aged 18


Eightenth birthdays are meant to be special. The only significance this birthday has for me is that I earn 25p more every hour, and that adds up to an extra £14 a week.

Friday 22 Jun 1984

June, 1984: working at Pleasurewood Hills American Theme Park

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:19 am


The long summer at Pleasurewood Hills began today. I was positioned as “Guard” of the train that circles the park.

During the night I couldn’t relax because I still thought I was on the train. Even when, in my dreams, I touched the carpet, I still thought I was on the train – and that the train was passing through my bedroom. I opened my eyes to try and see that all was clear for the take-off but I couldn’t see anything.

Thursday 14 Jun 1984

June, 1984

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:19 am


My Christian faith was slightly revived when I had doubts the First World War ever took place. “Did it really happen?” I thought. Revision continues. My strict discipline must not slacken.


All I want is for June the 20th to go, and my exams to be over. I know Pleasurewood Hills is long, boring and hard work but at least I won’t be under pressure.


I’m very relieved the exams are over, but really I’m still worried because the results haven’t come through yet. I may have got three A levels, however on the other hand I may have failed two and only succeeded in History. Now I believe the celebration will be after the results have come – as long as I have two A levels.

Sunday 06 May 1984

May, 1984

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:18 am


I have little time to worry about my exams now as I am revising most of the time.


Keats once advised that to overcome or escape from melancholy one should “Glut on a rose”. My advice is to stick your head in a bowl of cold water with your eyes closed.

Sunday 01 Apr 1984

April, 1984

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:18 am


Passed my driving test. It wasn’t until the evening that I thought of all the money I had paid, and it gave me great satisfaction to know that the money hasn’t been wasted.


Went to Froebel College of Higher Education for interviews in History and Religious Studies. The ratio of boys to girls is 75% female and 25% male, so I think I’ll be accepted on that basis.


While I was in bed I was having a nightmares because I felt that I had a cold. All I could think about was Woody Bear and how my run could be jeopardised by this cold that came on in the night.


I felt extremely weak and ill during my paper round, feeling depressed because I couldn’t run in Woody Bear if I felt like this. Obviously there’s Woody Bears reputation, there’s my reputation, and there’s £300 for Mencap at stake. Pleasurewood Hills are going to make a big deal of the affair.


Last night I asked mum to tell the paper shop that I wouldn’t be in this morning. I think I needed that extra bit of sleep, because I didn’t get up until 2.30pm.


There was another news paper article about Woody Bear’s run again today. The worry that was going on at this time was intense. There’s nothing worse than feeling so unenergetic, and doing hardly any physical activity, but at the same time knowing that on Sunday there was miles to be covered to maintain the reputation of Woody Bear and myself.

I’ve been asked to thank the host, read telegrams and cards and give a toast to Paul and Fiona, hoping they’ll be happy and all that. What a hassle.


It was mainly today that I paid for all the attention and admiration that was gained by the announcement of my run. I think of the wonders this simple run has done for me, but today was spent paying in worry.

I spent a good part of the afternoon in my bedroom trying to do work, shaking, feeling the worst, and looking repeatedly at the route and thinking how I’d feel at different stages.

The evening was spent in the same attitude. Finally I made up my mind I would go for a run to see how I felt. Previously I’d been trying to weigh my abilities by running short bursts in the front room. I only went for three quarters of a mile but I felt really good, and I went to bed with peace on my mind thinking, “I’m going to win the race.”


I looked in the mirror and said, “This is your day of fame.” As it turned out it was Woody’s.

After we were all off, the pattern began which I was to follow throughout the course. I waved to everybody I thought would wave back, and then I waved to everybody because they all waved back. I reached Beccles at 1.00pm. Dad told me afterwards that he had heard a child saying, “When’s the bear coming?” to which the dad replied, “Not long now.” I was greeted with applause everywhere. Practically everybody who had a camera took a picture of me. One person took a cine film of me.

When we went home we passed over the hills with ease, in that invention called the car.

My confidence for the exams is growing. I believe strongly now that I am destined for West London.


This is the last week of my morning paper round. I’m finishing because I want more time for study, I feel slightly embarrassed doing it because of my age, I know I’m getting a highly paid job in the summer and I’m jarred off with it.


When I was having breakfast I was handed a self addressed envelope and I knew it was from Froebel College. Would I be accepted or rejected. I was reasonably confident because they need males so badly, but it was a relief to find I was accepted. Now that’s off my mind – but what is still on my mind is fear of my A levels. Fear of failure increases as the dates approach.


F.O.Y. was handed over to me because nothing had been planned. We discussed the origins of man, the age of the earth, contradictions in the Bible, the possibility of Paul the apostle quoting the O.T. out of context, whether we have free will or not and how I feel Hell seems too harsh – if it exists. We also discussed other religions, and how people from all religions can have an experience or an encounter with God, thus inferring Christ was not involved, thus inferring Christianity is not the only way to God.

Pastor suggested many weeks ago that people from other religions who speak in tongues must have their power from the Devil. Christine said that in the case of other religions the Devil was mimicking God. I said that this was a dangerous attitude.

One thing that bothers me concerning “sin” is masturbation. The general picture from the Bible is that it is wrong. Jesus said that even if you think about women or men in a sexual way, then you have committed adultery in your heart. But maybe he was just saying that so that real physical adultery would not take place, with the idea that thinking leads to action. All the authors of the Bible say the same general thing, but none says, “Do not masturbate”. Why? My own theory is that, just as I am reluctant to write about it in my diary, being slightly ashamed, I believe the authors of the Bible might also be embarrassed by the subject. In the concordance to the Bible it goes from “Master” to “Master Builder”.


I worked until midnight, although the last hour was off and on as I’d had a pint of lager and a bottle of red wine. In that state I tried to think about the exams in a realistic way – because funny enough I think one can be more realistic when intoxicated. However I can’t remember what my conclusion was.

Sunday 11 Mar 1984

March, 1984: going home

Filed under: Diary One - Portrait of a Schoolboy — David Matthews @ 11:18 am


Jerry had left before us, but because of Chris’ fast driving we were soon behind him, so the last ten miles home turned out to be a race – but we couldn’t get past them. Once we nearly had an accident when Jerry overtook a car and we went through as well to keep up. We just got through. My orders were, “Don’t worry about our lives, just win this race.” It only occurred to me afterwards that we were endangering the lives of other road users.


Pleasurewood Hills phoned. They want to get a lot of publicity for me and have a dress rehearsal. Apparently they’ve made a new Woody Bear suit for me which is much lighter. I have a feeling of guilt and worry because of my lack of training for the event. I’ve been on two six mile runs and a three mile run and I was always tired after them.


In General Studies I was arguing in favour of marriage. Jill and I both sat on the front tables, and we had a really good lesson. Amazingly it was just the girls who were backing Jill up, so it turned out to be boys against girls. Amazing – because it is the wife or female who would lose out the most if there was a separation (with children).


As mentioned somewhere, I’m not all that enthusiastic about riding in trains, mainly because I’m afraid of getting lost. Roehampton College sent me a letter saying that my interview is on April 2nd. Well I guess that’s when that fear will have to be crushed.


Oh God how depressing A levels are. I’m sure you’ve heard this story before somewhere, but what if I fail and then there’s all the work and reading I’ve got to put into them. I have a constant fear that everything is going to go wrong.

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