(It's 7:45pm) Lynn is downstairs playing a nauseating Frank Sinatra LP on the record player. Don't get me wrong, Frank is no monster or gargoyle, but actually purchasing one of his LPs is something I could never do. I think it mirrors Lynn's frame of mind at this time, the close of her free existence and passing youth. No doubt Frank will be at the forefront of her 'record playing' list when she's 30, or even 40. Her character is now moulded and cast and I foresee no drastic alterations in the coming years. When she's a little, old lady in 50 years time I do suppose she won't have changed one bit. Oh dear. Frank's OK, but long live James Brown, Wild Cherry, Judge Dread, the Sex Pistols, Debbie Harry, Ian Dury, and Bianca Jagger.
