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"The girl with no knickers has licked Hannah's chest" - A Most Illuminating Tale
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters
Date: 3.30 am, Sunday 28th September, 2003
Subject: "The girl with no knickers has licked Hannah's chest"
Security: Public
Mood:changeable
Music:Nirvana - Unplugged
What a day. What a night. I'm actually having to psyche myself up to write this, but I really ought to before I sleep. I really ought to or else I won't sleep.

Woke later than I anticipated and hurrridly had to choose clothes. Ended up in the blue linen suit with a plain white shirt. Biked like a man possessed to meet the Coster family, which scared the bejesus out of me. Even though we are just friends, I've seen Susannah nearly every day for the last three months and, I'll admit it, I wanted her parents to like me. I think her mum did but I have no idea about her father. Lunch was at the World Cafe where I had a truly abysmal steak, but didn't complain, partly because I'm English, partly because of being in company and partly because the company ended up paying, and a truly scrumptious custard tart.

Eine kleine wanderung up to St. Peter in Chains, where we got given our laminated certificates by Jim Carter and Douglas Surnameunspellableatthishour. Surprisingly few tears, although I did give my tissue to Meredith just in case. It was over before we knew it.

Odd moment with family photographs for Susannah.

To 104 Crouch Hill, for drinks and gifts for the tutors. Again, surprisingly few tears. I had a bit of a cry when I saw the Mountview stripped bare and ready for the next show. Odd to think that's the last I'll see of some people.

After a brief stop to recharge Susannah's camera and acquire a belated birthday present for Bex, to All Bar One. Red wine on Debbie. Champagne on Emma. Paella on my hands. I can still smell it. Had a real weird moment when Emma was showing the tokens from her abundance of parentage.

I know my parents go away this time every year and I know I was a bit late giving them the dates, but they could have been there so easily. They could have seen my showcase and they could have been at the graduation. They hadn't booked the holiday and they could have just come back a day early, or even had the weekend in London to finish the week off. And I'll go home and my mum will apologise and I'll say it didn't matter cause they came to the show and I'm crying. Why the fuck weren't they there? Am I that much of a burden? They go on holiday. Do they think I just forget? All the happy families. Sarah said I was spoiled. Maybe I am. I know I am. But after all the years of my mum wanting to be proud of me and me wanting to make her proud, she misses this because of an anniversary last weekend.

It was odd going home after my birthday because although I know dinner was my birthday present, it was what I wanted to make other people happy. When I went home afterwards, the fatted calf was still in the pastures and there was no cake being baked. In fact, I took my own birthday cake. Actually, a birthday cake would have done it. Is it the money? I know I wouldn't spend so much if I wasn't so fucking stressed. And we had a long talk about setting up a dark room as a birthday thing, which was an absolute pipe dream. But I know there's the equipment in Kathy's loft. That would have been great, sorting that out. Or my dad finishing my fishtank because he knows I'm too scared to touch it. Just something that said we have put ourselves out for you. Just a little.

I know they care. I know I'm spoiled. I know I'm lucky. But right now I'm tired and upset because they should have been there. I wanted my mum to see me get this because I'M FUCKING PROUD OF THIS. I deserve this. I've been through hell this year. I don't know why. But this has been without doubt the hardest year of my life. I've been the slacker and I've still worked harder than I've ever had to before. The Oxford thing was a farce. All that money and I was a waste of space. But here I've cared so much about every fucking show. And I've cared about wasting this. And I have the horrible fear that everyone hates me and that I'm a shit actor and that I don't stand a chance of getting work so this is my last day of being able to say I'm a student. I think I've done pretty fucking well this year. Give me my recognition because they aren't going to give it me when I walk out that door. Because I'll just be another of the nameless throng failing to get work. Fucking it up. And this is my last chance for my parents to say that's our boy doing something he cares about. Suceeding where the last one failed. But there will be another rant about that somewhere else.

brief pause. Blows nose. Deep breath

Christ I want to phone someone. or IM, but Trillian has gone down.

That Sarah's a canny lass.

I need to change the subject. Back to the plot?

Slow trickle of people out of All Bar One generally for a brief haitus before reconvening in Highbury and Islington. (I'm not even going to try spelling his name) S's bloke talked to me and it was odd because he knew a lot about me from what S had said. Generally complimentary and did make me feel better about the future, but it was very weird. He talked. I listened.

np: "I don't have to think, I only have to do it. The results are always perfect, but that's old news. Would you like to hear my voice sprinkled with emotion?"

All seemed fine. I occasionally had to excuse myself and take a deep breath to stop myself crashing, but all was pleasant. I left eventually. Came home and dropped off my stuff. Changed into dancing gear and headed to the tube.

Bierodrome, Highbury and Islington. Cherry beer called Mort something. Very tasty. two pints. Give S a foot massage.

I mentioned it was weird being around Ed and (Still untypable) S's Man and Tom because they are men and we got into a discussion (scratch that, I got into a ramble) about how I see myself and I do always see myself as the child. I purposefully keep myself around people I consider more grownup than myself. This is why I rarely try to sell myself because I always put myself in company that I think are better in everyway than me. And even when they aren't brighter than me, I always have respect for the boss or the more experienced man. I have to be very comfortable to argue with someone who even appears higher status than myself (notably AJ on DAL). But I was thinking about this on the way back here and I think I do it because of my brother. I always wanted his friends to like me. I always wanted to be around them because they knew how it worked. They would teach me the ways of the world and even now aged 23 I'm looking for teachers. I'm looking for someone to tell me this is the way things are. It's a really callous thing to say but I hate being around people less intelligent than myself because I don't want to have to teach, I still need to learn. But if that's the case, why do I spend so much of my time talking such utter bollocks rather than listening to the words of wisdom my friends shout at me every day, or would if I wasn't talking so damned much?

Hannah and Kelly were looking for men to kiss. Much doyouthinkhesgay- and ishewithherdoyouthink- ing. Ward took them on a tour of the bar to display his selections of the elible batchelors.

I was talking to Gareth about the future when, looking over my shoulder he started giving me a running commentary on the situation at the bar. A girl in a black and white dress removed her knickers for the pleasure of a man in a blue casual shirt. He tried to remove her dress while still standing at the bar. They headed towards the toilets at the back of the bar, but she immediately ran into another man. And another. And another. It looked like there may have been many people disappearing off to the toilets together. Then Ward and Hannah appeared before this crowd of men. The woman bent forward and licked Hannah's chest and she ran scared.

I damn near widdled meself laffin'.

Fran and Esther and Rick turned up very late prompting the question What had they been up to? to which the answer I think they've been having sex was freely shouted.

Left not soon after as most people had either wussed to the beddy place or gone to Eirlys' bash. I wanted to go dancing. I'm still sitting here wondering what would have happened if I'd have tried to drag Fran out dancing. But I know it would have been pants. We don't dance well together. Besides, the fates said to leave.

I left with S and her man and Bex and her Grinch. So I stopped with B and waited while she got her pizza because I'd have felt like a right proper gooseberry going with the couple. By the time the pizza came, Kelly was walking back, so I accompanied her home, meeting in the process a shopkeeper reluctant to surrender his Bertie Basset money box, a gent called Hallum obsessed with finding all the nationalities he could think of in a single tube carriage (along with his long-suffering friends and the Russian who started it all, who was lovely), and a mildly inebriated Ward, who stole Kelly's quavers and made her angry.

When I got in, I instinctively texted S to tell her I was back safe and sound. Then I suddenly thought it could have been very irritating for the pair of them to be bugged by my uncommon courtesy. A curt reply followed.

I do have this horrible fear that they hate me. That they all hate me. The worst thing is that my last real memories of mountview are all tainted by the Biddle Bash, where I was the ass, the idiot but not the fool. And that was the first time I ever actually disliked people on my course. And I know a lot of people have looked at me different since then. It took me five years to make friends in Coventry, three in Oxford. What was meant to happen in a year? What did I expect?

Still, the course is over. Now I find out who my friends really are. How many will still be talking to me in six months?

And I have a horrible fear that I'm ruining people's lives. And I think my own is up there somewhere.

Right. I've been typing this for two fucking hours now. I hope Emma's not still awake. (I'd have IM'd but Trillian's bust. Or Yahoo's bust) All in all, a good day. I've calmed down now. Have a bit of an edache, but nothing sleep won't solve. And it's grand prix day tomorrow. (it's not today til 5am, honest guv).

Sweet dreams world. Can I have some too?
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