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October 3, 1984 Dear Mum n Dad Here I am. The letters are flooding in!! One from Vorn and one from Julie(1) Tuesday. One from Nan and a long one from Valeria today(2). So I'm beginning to reply. It is FAB getting mail. (Tell Simon(3). He will understand.) I'll do my best to keep up with all my fans. Settled in. I know what these two words mean at last. (Hey! Apparently Stephanie is having a bad time of it in Trent. So David informs me. Tears during her first weekend home. SCANDAL. Aren't I tough?) My fave day today (Wed). Lots of time off and where are we? RIGHT in the middle of the KING'S ROAD. Actually quite overwhelming when you feel like actually BUYING. I've just seen an entire rack of completely individual checked shirts (every colour imaginable) for £6. Hundreds and hundreds and every one's different. FAB. The dungarees in Flip (a shop of entirely American clothes) were bloody £30 so I just looked. MY GOD – it's not like at home – there's only a handful of clothes shops I'd shop in there, but on the KING'S RD!! It's so damned LONG. It needs a proper sussing before I spend all your money. I might chicken out and go to the Millets!!! (Safety first.) We managed to get all my shit up to Room 317 in one journey. Not bad. And he(4) stopped for a cup of tea while I unpacked all my FOOD. (I'm a real nibbler and I do need it.) My next door neighbour Stephen (Geordie) was 20 yesterday so we went for a pint round the corner. (The Prince Albert has a lounge that me and Dad could quite easily go for a drink in. It's not an old person's pub or a student one particularly. VERY NICE.) Stephen (who I would venture to call my best mate down here) is a right TRENDY. He's into Brylcreem and no-socks and suits and braces and 1940s ties. A real fashion man. A lot less down to earth than black trousers/checky shirt/raincoat Andy. Four fish fingers on toast for breakfast today. Can't wait to eat some more Mum-cooked ones tho'. Still haven't heard a girl go to the toilet yet(5). Have they got open plugholes in their sinks or does it just make no sound? A FAB letter from Valeria today. Hard to believe she's still in love with me after this long but she is and I made a tape of my voice for her last night and sent it to her. Apparently she loves my voice. Hopefully going down on Friday night. A source tells me there's a really FAST no-nonsense train to Brighton from Victoria. And Victoria's a no-change tube journey from Parsons(6). Bloody easier than coming home. I'll SOON make back my railcard £12 at this rate. I'll most probably come home on the weekend Oct 12-14. Because you'll be Amsterdamming the next one(7). (I might even come home then as well. Leave me a chicken.) Photography this week is GREAT. Our visiting teacher is an Australian called Robin and he's a good man. Well, stroke of luck, I met a gang of COWBOYS in Wandsworth High St. (Whaaaaat?) They were English but decked out in cowboy gear and they saw me with my camera and posed for a shot. What a successful photo it looks too!! UNUSUAL. And a Granny stopped for me in the Arndale Centre as well!! Guess what? Wandsworth High St's quite NICE. The Arndale is very impressive during school hours(8). And it didn't rain. We only have to come up with SIX good photos and there's one of Andy reflected in the glass at the front of the Town Hall with Wandsworth High St behind me. Ace. I could very easily get worried about the essays we've got to do in Art History but I'M NOT GOING TO. Bollocks. I can write. It's just the amount of HOURS we're expected to put into everything. Good job I'm not dependent on going out like my neighbour Stephen. Oh shit. His parents are coming down from Newcastle this weekend and they're bringing his BIKE. You'd better bring the Metro down for me(9). MY GOD it is IMPOSSIBLE to get to the phone. I gave up last night. All the girls spend hours talking to their boyfriends. (Perhaps they are illiterate.) So I'm writing this to make up for the lack of phonecall this week. I know you don't mind because you know I'm fine. Melissa(10) would love to hear my mate Dave talking. He's a pure Liverpudlian and worse (or better) than Barrie(11). (Behave!) Dave lives over the road in 321. He used to go to drama school or something and knows a couple of people who were in Brookside. Godammit I am CRAP at making my bed. You just dump your old sheets in Room 119 on a Tuesday morning and these nice ladies just GIVE you clean replacements. Great system but then you have to reassemble your bed. Bad news.
Tough being independent(12).
See you soon for some gammon and steak and Aeros and Radio Times
and private toilet and controllable showers. Spoil me.
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