1968: WEEK 19

1968: WEEK 19

Monday, 6 May

MAT may 68 no 42.jpg

The Mayor spoke to us in Assembly. A more unhumorous individual would be hard to imagine. He started off by saying, "it's a great privilege for me to be here today," and the head girl ended it by saying, "it's been a great privilege to have you talk to us today"! Knowing bloody well we've spent one of the most boring five minutes of our lives. The hypocrisy of the whole thing. No wonder this country's like it is, with wet people like him on all the councils.

Anya brought in 'Mademoiselle Age Tendre' - it's on "Michel Polnareff et les Filles"!  The more I think about him the more staggering I think it is that Anya and me have chosen such an extraordinarily nice person as our favourite singer. He likes girls who aren't possessive, and who are "gentilles, douces, et accueillantes." The photo combines all his poetical and perceptive qualities and his deep understanding of life.

Anya went to a Danish exhibition with Malcolm on Friday night, and Pam had another ravey week-end. On top of that, Anya's got Manuel to look forward to. Oh how I envy her.

I got a bit worried in the evening about the summer holiday. Going on a French exchange means you have to have the girl back, which would be dreadful if she was the ravey type - I know perfectly well we wouldn't go out dancing once. And if I did have a boyfriend, she'd feel left out.

Hair fab. Fringe gone dead straight.

Tuesday, 7 May

Wore hair loose because so nice, but after a while it got rather curly and therefore became wrecked.

Rosebery Day so no lessons. Instead we had the most pathetic quiz between houses. Anna-Maria came home with Chump and told us a marvellous joke (Martha's actually!). Q: "What is it that lies quivering at the bottom on the sea?" A: "A nervous wreck"!!! Ma and me were in stitches.

Had to change into uniform and at 7 Ma took me in. Sat on the floor near the front with Anya, Tig and Lucy. The evening's entertainment was great fun and Elizabeth Morris was absolutely brilliant; she got about five minutes of clapping at the end! Good enough to go on TV! She mimed to Danny Kaye, to his Orchestra record where he tells a story treating the instruments as human beings. Then had the prefects' play - hilarious! The 'staggered' bus queue scene with a prefect on duty lasted precisely five seconds because a hoard of girls charged onto the stage and laid the prefect flat! Then the Staff Play, or rather, the Staff Opera - so mad! Mr Walker was the funniest of all. Every time the staff got het up about anything he'd stand up and sing, in his deep growly voice, "Silence - Staff - Please." I was crying in one part.

Wednesday, 8 May

Disgusting rain all day. 

I love the Small Faces' new one - 'Lazy Sunday Afternoon'. They put awfully strong Cockney accents on - "'ere we all are, sitting' in a rainbow" - and there's a glorious thumpy guitar bit.

Currents Events did immigration. She asked us how many coloured people there are in the British Isles (the whole population is 45,000,000) and most people thought 5 million. The real number is .8 million - in other words, everyone's making a fuss abut nothing. Ugh, nauseating. The Evening Standard said the other day that by 2000 the Government will consist of blacks, browns and karky coloured politicians. In fact, by 2000 the coloured population is calculated to be 3m compared to 70m whites. 

Anya says Rob is going off Martha. I'm surprised he hasn't before. But he's a pretty foul person, I think. Tig says he's so against negroes she thought he was joking, Nauseating.

Vanessa and me had a long discussion about Christa after the play rehearsal - she now wears three pairs of false eyelashes! Apparently she went off to lunch at the Post Office Tower with an actor in the Royal Shakespeare.

Thursday, 9 May

Meeting for everybody in the play at 1.00, and at long last Miss Broughton told us exactly what she thinks of us and how we'd all better get a move on. We even had a vote whether to go on with it or not. Anyway, we are going to carry on, but it means staying after school four days out of five for the next three weeks. Oh Heavens I am so fed up.

Anya and me had lunch in the sun and discussed Martha. We've discovered both of us feel more pity for her than anything. Her mother dotes on her and her father makes corny jokes.

At 2 we had form photos. My hair wasn't bad but somehow I knew it'd look foul in the photo! Did Act I after school. I acted quite well considering I still have to worry about words, movements and posture. Pat Sanderson is very good.

I wrote a card to Camille asking him why on earth he hasn't written a letter since 26th Feb.

Top of the Pops hopeless except for the Small Faces. 

Friday, 10 May

At lunch Anya said, "I was thinking about Dutronc last night and I've decided he must be on military service"!!! Oh it's ok for her, she's got Manuel. 

So frustrated in the evening. I've got piles of school-work to do and on top of that I've got to make G and G's Golden Anniversary mats, turn up two dresses, go to a rehearsal on Saturday morning, buy some tights, and worse of all, fix up my summer holiday. Anyway, the AmitiΓ© Internationale des Jeunes leaflet came today; Ma and me filled it in the it all sounds fine. The girl comes to me 4-25 July and I go to her 25 July-15 August. BUT, it's got to be signed by a teacher and sent back by Monday.

Nearly everybody but me goes out somewhere at the weekends. I so want a boyfriend so I can go out. You can't go dancing when you have to get your mother to take you every time.

Saturday, 11 May

Ma took me to school for the rehearsal. No-one there, so I waited for quarter of an hour. Still no-one, so I rang up Pa and asked him to fetch me. I met him outside William's Garage, so we went in and had a look at cars for Mummy. Decided the only car worth having is the Porsche.

Ma and Pa went out in the evening. Lucky, lucky, lucky things. 

Embroidered Grandma and Grandpa's mats and patched my trousers and turned them down 1" - great improvement.

Good programme on Radio Luxembourg on the Beatles. The best thing is, they are the ones who took the first plunge with experimenting with different styles of music. Without them we'd be in a kind of Jerry and the Pacemakers rut. No wonder Polnareff thinks they're one of the best things that's ever happened. Every single song is completely different from the last. I don't know how they do it - they've been going for five years. I think the best record they've ever made is Penny Lane/ Strawberry Fields - because of the marvellous words, the fantastic backing, and the technical quality. 

Sunday, 12 May

Beautiful weather till one, actually had breakfast on the terrace! 

Read the Obserview Review - on censorship in Denmark. It's marvellous, they don't have any. So instead of sex crime increasing, it is going down.

Interview with Edna O'Brien in the Sunday Times; I've come to the conclusion I cannot understand writers. Why do they have to be so complicated? Why on earth can't they take life as it is and stop reflecting on it? When it start wrecking your life it's ridiculous. With Edna O'B a lot of it is to do with the religion that was pumped into her as a child. "I've reneged on things like religion and duty, which I was brought up with... I thought I'd run away from them, but I haven't." Other phrases which annoy me: "I am dogged by fears to this day. I panic on the tube when for some reason someone bursts out laughing." (Why?) "Women's newly found freedom avails us so little inside ourselves. I think we're more unhappy and tormented than our mothers were." (Isn't this nonsense?). "Celts are prone to vagabonding, so are writers. Writers are monsters." (I tend to agree.) 

So I pity her, she's not happy. Just reading about her complicated way of looking at things makes me feel complicated too, it's depressing (cf. Margaret Drabble and 13th Feb).

Dinner was depressing. Daddy was saying how unlikely it is you find someone in your life you love, let along someone who loves you too. It is. I consider he and M are terribly terribly lucky to have found each other, I mean, marriage is so important, your whole life almost revolves around it, and if you're not happily married, well, it's almost impossible to be happy. And the awful thing is you only live once, you can never say, "oh, I'll make a better job of it next time." There is no next time. Oh it's horrible. What are the chances I'll be happily married? It's the only thing in the world I want.

 Spring 1968: Chump, 13 and Ingrid, 17

Spring 1968: Chump, 13 and Ingrid, 17

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1968: WEEK 20

1968: WEEK 20

1968: WEEK 18

1968: WEEK 18