SATURDAY 16th FEBRUARY 1980

"All Fall down.."

Saturday Night at the Greyhound.

An urgent call from Steve, he wants to meet for a drink and more worryingly a chat. You do not need to be Sherlock Holmes to work out what it is that he wants to talk about.

I am in no mood for another long Beverley related chat, but find that I cannot refuse the call. I meet Mark at the top of Welbeck Road and we walk towards the pub. Although we are early, Steve is there ahead of us and already two thirds of the way through a pint of Ramrod and Special - this is not a beer to be treated in this fashion and bodes not at all well for the evening.

We sink the first one in good order and only then does Steve raise the issue uppermost in his mind. He announces that he thinks he is wasting his time with Beverley and should give up. It is on the tip of my tongue to agree with him, but realising that I have a role to play in this I ask why he thinks that?

In the litany that follows, Steve tells us much that we know already. It’s not as if we haven't been privy to the majority of events after all. Beverley we are told shows no interest in going out with him, and there is nothing that he can do which will change that. Through the rapidly developing fog of drunkenness, I wonder if there is anything I can say to help.

In the back of my mind is a dim glow of realisation that these matters either succeed or they don’t, but I recall someone once saying that persistence could work wonders and I offer that as a thought. Steve is outwardly skeptical, but it is clear that I have offered him some hope – yet another straw for his grasping hands. On the face I wonder if I have done him a favour?

Mark offers his own opinion and in doing so seems to imply that it is merely a matter of being forceful and using arguments for which the girl will have no answer. This is either nonsense or arrogance. He seems to be less interested in Steve’s problem than I and only here for the chance of a weekend bevy (1). It seems a little unfair that given he seems to be doing well, he should be so scathing of Steve and his attitude is obvious to even a nine-tenths pissed Johnson.

When the pub closes and after the bar staff has threatened us a few times, we wander home with the slow deliberateness of the deeply pissed. As always alcohol stiffens the nerve and Steve is adamant that he will somehow succeed. Despite the alcohol I am wise enough to not question his method. If Beverley ever falls off that pedestal I suspect that it will be Steve Johnson that will be the one that gets hurt.

Editors note. Cook and the sixth former had, over the space of the years they had been in the sixth developed a lingua franca of their own. As indicated 'bevy' meant drink as did 'motz' and 'sess'. 'Crunch', 'Crunchington' and 'gusset' were all terms of women along with the occasional use of the term 'grumble.' 'Merchant' was a term used to describe a violent person usually in connection with a pub. A variety of other colourful have, sadly, been lost to time.

1. A drink!