Tuesday April 2, 1974

Still no message from June. Oh God! It's so frustrating. My concentration is out altogether and I cannot think of anyone or anything else. She dominates my existence.

Rush home from the YP expecting a call from her, but nothing came. Driving lesson at 6.30 - and we went all over the place - going through a massive amount of petrol. However, I did manage to handle the automobile through Bradford, reaching home safely at 7.30. A boring evening. See tv until the 9 o'clock news starts, but not wishing to extend my misery I leave the room, where I now compile my diary.

You'll have to excuse all the gaps, but I keep taking up my pen, then the urge to commit anything to paper dies before I have time to preserve my thoughts for posterity here in these papges. As I've already attempted to communicate, my mind is on other things at the moment.

Hear at about 10.15 on the tv that President Pompidou of France died tonight. Mother went round for thest of the evening saying: "I told you so", because she's apparently been watching the French President's movements for weeks, and is of the opinion that the foor devil had leukaemia or something. France is in chaos.

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