Memories, Tragedies

Journal Entry, 12 Aug 2012:
A couple of years ago, my workmates and I – along with most of the British population – were convinced that Joanna Yeates, the young architect, had been murdered by her landlord. He was a dishevelled loner; the newspapers quickly decided that he was guilty. We had fierce, indignant conversations in the works canteen, and eagerly awaited the announcement that he had been convicted, strung up, flogged, and strung up again for good measure.
Unfortunately it turned out that Ms Yeates had actually been killed by Vincent Tabak, and ever since then I have been a bit wary about joining the local lynch mob, just in case they have got it wrong.
(To understand the context of this entry, regard the case of Tia Sharp, whose body was recently found in her Grandmother’s house)

Journal Entry, 6 Sept 2012:
It’s twenty-past eight; I’m listening to Radio Three, where Haitink is conducting Bruckner Nine on the last-but-two night of this year’s Prom season.
Back in Sept 1982, I set off for Leicester Poly to start my student life as a Chemistry undergraduate. How strange, then that thirty years later I find myself living in a small rented flat and working as a humble lab technician.  During the winter of 1982 I recorded a concert from Radio 3 which included Bruckner’s Fifth, the first time I had ever heard any of his music.

Journal Entry, 10 Jun 1989:
Rad 3: new disc of Bruckner IX, Cleveland/Dohnanyi. Dead good – catapulted into the maelstrom.

Journal Entry, 3 Oct 1987:
Went to library, reading about Richard Dadd, whose series of paintings for ‘The Passions’ includes Hate, Love and Idleness. Can idleness be a passion? Mind you, Keats said that ‘He is awake who knows himself asleep’, so it must be.
Bought New Scientist; on the back page an advert saying ‘brighten up your lab with our new poster all about AIDS’. A hideous misshapen globule in bright orange dominates the centre of the chart…
Last night in the Jester some bloke ordered a cocktail: Pernod, Freezomint and Vodka in lemonade.


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