Rain pouring down all day and another night sans TV. This is not good.
Met my bigot northern Irish pal in the pub for the first time in three years. Before he became very drunk he kept looking at me and said I looked very 'girlish', which I can only assume was a compliment, unless of course he meant dim, thinking about it. I have a short bobbed haircut and had run out of batteries for my curler, so the hair is childishly straight. We had a long chat about paranoia, and back on to his favourite subject: the plight of the poor single working class Paddy in London, etc. etc. My Irish cartoonist friend then turned up, and we had quite an interesting Catholic/Protestant thing going for a while, with universal contempt for the Frank McCourt type of novel about deprived Irish childhood, but still a general condemnation of the Christian Brothers, who had 'educated' one of them, mainly (it could have been worse) by beating him up.
Dorothy thinks I will have to get a technician in about the TV which means involving my neighbour upstairs as they will no doubt need access to the roof. Maybe I will see if I can live without a television and treat this deprivation as a kind of test.I have only known a couple of people who were single and did not have a TV, one of whom was my art history tutor, who made a huge point of this to us all the time. His life however was considerably more exciting than mine. We shall see.
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