Friday night again. OK, so Friday night usually does follow Friday day, but it's just that I like Friday nights particularly and you'll never fully appreciate just what pleasure I get from writing 'Friday night again' at the head of the page. After all, I ought to be able to write just what the hell I like at the top, middle or bottom of any page of my own choice in this diary. I did buy the bloody thing with my own money, just in case you've forgotten. Anyway, let's not get silly about it.
Traumatic evening. Christine is in the Hare and Hounds without Gary - they had a squabble at work and he declined to say he'd take her out. I love her you know, and the thought of her going out with that emaciated little bank clerk with nine inch hips and no hair repulses me like I've never been repulsed before. But as the ancient Chinese proverb says: "that's the way the cookie crumbles'. Move on to the Tudor Bar with David, Chris, Carol, Helen, Christine D, Christine. Leave at about 10.30 for Wikis. With Christine all night, though we do not enter into the subject of our relationship until the very end. At 1.50 we go sit outside in the cool air, near Chris's car, and we talk about us. She thinks a lot about Gary and is annoyed that I didn't make my feelings known before this point. But you know what they say about true love and the fact that it never runs smoothly? Well, mine hasn't had the opportunity to run at all yet.
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