Stories from 1996 Chapter 34 A Britpop Journal

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Chapter 34

22 October 1996

I am a month in to my new start but life after graduating is not going as planned. I am still skint and seem to be getting further into debt rather than making any headway with my list of credit cards, loans, overdrafts etc. Just beginning to think about it makes my head hurt but those bold red type letters from the bank won’t stop coming unless I address the problem.

As my financial situation spirals out of control, the rest of my life becomes a thankless chore. Work is tedious and miserable and any money made goes straight into my debt pit. Most of the fun people who started there with me weeks ago have now left to move onto bigger and better leaving me rotting. I have been taking the piss and taken too many sickies after too many night outs and am very close to losing the worst job in the world. An achievement to be proud of.

The relentless drinking is taking toll. Firstly, on my health – I have had a permanent cold for weeks, weigh less than I did when I was 13 and look permanently made up for Halloween. Secondly, on my mental state – my life has gradually evolved from situations where I was in control, where I did the choosing, where I had standards and dignity into some horrible out of control nights that I barely remember where the end results are definitely not what I wanted. I find it harder and harder to find this fun and, when being my most honest, am appalled and ashamed of my behaviour. As the Sunday mornings after the debauched nights before become more miserable and lonely my party girl bravado is slipping away and becoming something more sinister; crazy bad, not crazy good.

This morning, a Tuesday morning when I should be in work, I am sat here in my freezing, student shithole of a room nursing hangover no.76 this month. My vague recollections of last nights mishaps began with an ill-fated decision to visit the Tafarn (again!) We made a successful attempt to drink as much as we could with my last £10 of the month. Then,suitably inebriated, I had the misfortune of bumping into my Ex at the bar who was going to see Dodgy in the Great Hall.  I felt physically sick on sight but, also an inexplicable concoction of longing, envy and regret. We had a brief chat but He made it transparent that He had moved on, sorted His life out and was in a good place. He may as well have cut out my heart with a butter knife. My low got lower and as I watched Him walk out with all His mates being all jovial I sank into a corner and bawled like a bloody baby. In the Tafarn. Beside myself with god knows what emotion, but definitely beside myself.

Harry walked me out and as we exited the Union building, we had the misfortune to witness some poor fresher getting a beating from the bouncers, I have no idea the story behind the altercation but in my highly emotional state that fight summed up all the injustice I had ever felt. Big, fat, bald bully bastards getting their kicks from punching this poor kid. I stormed in, fuelled by alcohol and anger, shouting at them to stop. There was a scuffle, I remember slapping one around the ear to which he retorted with a punch to my eye. It wasn’t his full strength as I was still standing, more of a reprimand than anything else but, I still have a fantastic shiner this morning. The ungrateful fresher ran off without a thank you and I was left on the pavement with even more to cry about.

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