London 07/11/1989 Tuesday
Diva leaves this evening. On Sunday the three of us went to Spitalfields Market where they sell everything, very cheaply. It was incredibly busy, hard work walking around. We then went to Pizza Hut (I had called on Saturday night and Patricia spoke to a manager who told me to go there) – we ate and he said there were no vacancies. My face fell… I thought that if he asked me to go there it’s because there was something. But to call me there to say there are no vacancies!!! What for? I was really indignant. Why not just tell Patricia there were no vacancies. What a filthy man. I had made all sorts of plans, and tchibum! Thrown in the cold water. I’m ok now, but at the time I was really down… Not to worry, plenty of shitty, badly paid, jobs around, I’m sure of that.
On Sunday my mum went out and I called my cousin in Brazil, to wish her a happy birthday. Spoke to my aunt too, with a lump in my throat, I miss them so much. My mum got back and I put the phone down, but she clocked it and lectured me for half an hour. At the time I was certain I was getting the job and I told her I’d pay her back, but now there’s no job on the horizon.
Yesterday my mum and I had another homeric fight, this time with Diva in the audience. It was a stupid argument caused by pre-domicile tension (that’s the worst pun ever!), lack of money… I guess I need to grow up, my selfishness extrapolates the limits of rationality sometimes. It seems I won’t be doing much until January.
In the morning I went out with Diva, I have become her tour guide and photographer in exchange for cigarettes, it would seem. Diva bought a film and I took it all of her. My impressions of the star: she talks about herself all the time, and has some interesting stories to tell. She’s on a different level, no? She says she’s a socialist, but the way she was consuming I don’t really think she is. She seems to live a very glamorous life (I never figured out why she was slamming it with us…)
