MONDAY 2 JANUARY 1989

Nothing of note has happened today in this dry, dusty, flyblown piece of shit.

Mum went back to work (Target). Petra went home. Dean didn’t ring. Bet he’s got a girlfriend.

I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything because I can’t stop thinking about him — I forgot to light the stupid chip heater & now we have no hot water.

Dean has this crease across his brow (even though he’s only 21), which makes him look clever & thoughtful. Clear skin with a shadow of stubble — no acne like Brett, the weed (my ex). & his body: long legs, tall, well-built. Substantial — is that the right word (probably not, but I like it)? Not solid, though.

TUESDAY 3 JANUARY 1989

Dean still hasn’t called. If nothing more happens between us, at least I’ll always have the memory of New Year’s. Our one beautiful, magical night still burns bright & colourful (like fireworks) in my mind, but it feels like a dream now. I’ll try not to expect anything more because it’s obvious that he doesn’t like me. Petra says he does like me & he will ring.

Maybe he’ll ring tomorrow.