London 25/06/1990 Monday
Brazil lost to Argentina yesterday. Still can’t accept it, but also not too bothered. It’s not the end of the world, but Brazil must be waking up a little sad today.
As we were planning on going to Glastonbury I asked for Saturday and Monday off, at the beginning of last week. In the end no one went. I went to Seven Sisters on Friday. Gustavo is in Amsterdam and I stayed in his room. Denise, Robinson, Otavio and another Brazilian were smoking hash and drinking. I was smoking, smoking. At 9:30 I went to Patrick’s squat and Zeno said he’d gone out with his brothers. Us, the four Brazilians, went to the corner pub, drank and ate. Not a drop of alcohol passed my lips. Went back to the flat and smoked some more. When I was almost asleep Patrick’s brothers (another one arrived from Ireland, he’s 17 years old) knocked on our door, looking for a lighter. They said Patrick had gone to sleep. I was really stoned but went over to say hi and fell asleep. Patrick went to work at 6 and I went back to my, I mean, Gustavo’s room. I woke up at 11 and smoked with Denise and Robinson. Patrick got back at 2 and bought some hash. We stayed in his room from 3-6 smoking, sleeping, kissing, talking. We then rolled 6 joints, I got changed, stayed with Denise for a bit and we were going out. Except I had a really bad attack of stomach pain. When we left I was fine but by the time we got to Earl’s Court I was in agony. Patrick arranged to meet his brothers and Zeno at Prince of Tec. I knocked on Letitia’s door but she wasn’t in. We found the pub, but it was packed, so we sat outside and smoked our hash.
Then the three musketeers arrived, completely legless, gone past Marrakesh. Comical. Patrick and I were sober and we just laughed at them. Zeno fell asleep on the pub’s counter and wouldn’t wake up. Patrick and his younger brother (can’t remember his name either!) had to carry him out of the pub. My stomach was really hurting so me, Zeno and Patrick left.
When we got back we smoked more and went to Karl’s flat, Denise and Robinson were there. Patrick rolled four more joints. I couldn’t take it anymore. Denise and Robinson left and we stayed with Karl and his new girlfriend. Patrick started falling asleep and I was totally stoned. So we left. When we got outside Patrick pucked up all his dinner. It was really dense because he hardly had a drink, just food. He said he hadn’t been sick for 6 months. I don’t know which one of us was in a worse way. We passed out when we got to his room. Next day we took a break. I went to Denise’s flat, had a shower, went to see Patrick again, but he was rolling more joints. No… I went back to the flat. Robinson stayed with them and I smoked a joint with Denise. Went to watch the damned Brazil match at Karl’s. Brazil missed about 10 chances and conceded 8 minutes from the final whistle. Worst of all they missed THE goal when there were 2 minutes left. They deserved to lose to stop being so full of themselves. Karl had real weed. Yum! I’m so sick of hash. Denise and I went back to the flat after the match. We didn’t have any matches so I knocked on Patrick’s door. Zeno and his girlfriend opened the door, looking at me as if someone died. I thought something bad happened to Patrick! Then I remembered the game!!! Then we started talking about it, and Patrick’s brothers joined in the conversation. Then Patrick gets out of his room, looking very sleepy and creased. He smoked all the hash in the morning and slept all afternoon. He was fresh and I was stoned. I was leaving and he asked me to join him and everyone at the pub. I told him to come and knock on the door when he was leaving. Denise was depressed and I did all I could to get her to come, but she refused to. So I went with Patrick and his posse and Zeno’s girlfriend. They all know my name but I can’t remember theirs, his brothers names, I never heard those names before!
Suddenly Patrick turns to me and asks me to go to Greece with him in two weeks! I said maybe three weeks so I can save money too. Happiness!!! We just sat there making plans: two weekends without drinking, not spending any money. On the 3rd weekend we go and spend, 2, 3, 4 weeks away! We went to his room and laughed for ages. No drugs, no drinks. Not sure what time we slept. At six he got up. I watched him get dressed. The room was a mess, I couldn’t find my shoes. Then he said he wasn’t going to work and laid down with me. After ten minutes he got up, got changed in a mad rush and left running to catch his lift to work.
I slept a little more, went to Denise’s and then came home. I picked some photos up from last week. The idiots gave me the right negatives but the wrong photos! They are going to develop them again but now I have to wait until Friday!
I’m so scared now. Afraid of losing Patrick. I have a feeling it won’t last forever and I don’t like this feeling. He says he won’t be here for much longer as he doesn’t like this life. How can he think about going? I can’t think like this. I’m so happy with him I feel sad. I never thought happiness could bring so many questions and fear. I’ve never felt so happy and so scared. I can’t talk, I can’t stop crying.