“Had lie in, in morning (great)” / “Went up Dave C’s. Brrwd Roxy Music, lent him Phantasmagoria. Started work at 4 o’clock”
On of the strange things about being a teenager is this inate ability for them to just sleep and sleep and sleep.
I was no different. On Sundays – or days when i didn’t have school or work – it was certainly not unusual for me to keep my sorry arse in bed until after midday, often stumbling downstairs just in time for dinner. (In British parlance, “dinner” is the middle meal of the day, not the last… I’d hate for American readers to think I was so bloomin’ sad I didn’t get up until 5pm! (OK, who at the back shouted out “Are you sure?”)
Naturally, as my skis now tip over the edge of the precipice for that fast slalom run to dotage I regret staying in bed all that time and wonder why I didn’t just get up, get out and enjoy the world for all it was?!
Kids don’t know how good they’ve got it. (I often wonder if the reason I can’t sleep now is because I just slept too much as a teenager? Do we all perhaps have a fixed quantity of snoozetime?)
In other news the “friends of TRO” record club was thriving