‘Wildest Dreams’ – Bill Nelson
Gosh. Sorry I haven’t been around much, kiddies! Soz! Soz, me old mairtz! Well, as you’ve probably noticed, it’s been shit anyway, so I wouldn’t fuss too much if I was you. Today was pretty dull, too. Y’see, there was a Romeo and Juliet rehearsal at the Angles Theatre today, but at least I saw Stan Flowers and Danny Oliver. By the way, I was in the paper, in the R and J cast list. Fame. Again!
When I got home, my family was out. When they finally came in, Betty informed me I’d had a call from Naomi. So I rang Naomi, and Alex’s finished with her. She’s pretty well cut up and felt she could only confide in me about it. It happened last nite, in the BELL. He was pissed and she was pissed. Alex told her she was doing his head in and that he couldn’t hack it and wanted to stop seeing her. She went wild and begged him to stay, but to no avail. In a kind of confusion, she lost her bag, which had all her money in, plus her make-up, hairspray, diary and two letters: one of which was a 25-pager addressed to me. It also included a card she’d written for me during a flood of emotion on her behalf.
‘Eight Miles High’ – The Byrds
When she’d received my letter, she read it on the bus and kept saying ‘oh god!’, etc, out loud, cos of my emotional outburst, etc. She thought it was great and is really flattered. She loves attention, which is okay, cos I love giving it. Most other gurls tell you to fuck off if you give ‘em attention. I’ve got to write to her again, then she can answer BOTH my letters. Hope she gets her bag back. If not, I hope some half-decent finder posts my letter…
I rang Flash and he was ace. Eddie, him, me, Simon and Nigel all love each other. Flash’s not sure what he is now. I’d say he was the same as me: a gothic punk. Probably. I can’t wait till fuckin’ Blackpool, anyway.
By the way, Freddie gave me £3.99 for the Kung Fu slippers, so I can buy the Neph album. Life IS Bliss after all!
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