Sam Daker has come across some more diary entries from "Larry Parrinder", the Angels and Slags man. These screeds date from four or five years before the ones in that book. They show that Larry was at the yearning game and sometimes the crying game, earlier than we knew.
Wednesday 24th December 1980
The holiday is just about here, no operations scheduled, and just one emergency patient to fetch, from Ainsworth Ward. A Staff Nurse helped me take the head and foot off the bed and we wheeled the old boy back to Theatres for his op. She kept laughing, which made me think she had a drink or two under her belt, a spot of the old Christmas Eve lunchtime booze.
“Do I have to do the write-up in the book?” she asked in the corridor.
“Yes,” I said, “just fill in as far as the double red line. Name, age, ward, etc.”
“Oh, you’ll show me, will you?” she said.
When we got to the anaesthetic room I took the blanket off the patient and then showed the Staff Nurse where she had to fill the details in. I also got the notes for her, which were on the shelf underneath the trolley. I stood there beside her and she leaned forward and pressed her right breast onto my left hand, which was on the shelf where the big open book stood. Her breast was soft, and firm.
Friday 20th March 1981
I would like to get The Most Beautiful Girl In The World Who Eats In Sangrail’s Café up in my room and play some blues tapes to her. If I found in her a greatness of soul to match such a classical frame! For her I could be another Dante. I’d sing her praises for ten, twenty, or even thirty years if necessary.
Monday 23rd March 1981
Today I thought at first that Fay was acting a bit distant on the ward. She asked how I enjoyed my week off, but she looked tired and depressed. Maybe I would have to give up my efforts to get her up into my room to see my manuscripts or “etchings”.
In fact we arranged to meet tomorrow at Mansion Square.
The only thing is that I see they have been at work on the door frame of my room while I was at work. I hope they don’t want to change the door or something tomorrow just when I get the chance to come to grips with Fay.
I confided to Tommy that I would be seeing her. He said she’s nice-looking and must be in her mid- or late-thirties.
She is “much woman” as I’ve found in our little joking clinches and embraces (like when I playfully took her in my arms and we nuzzled nose to nose).
I don’t want another fiasco like the Julia episode of a week or two ago. I went to her room in the nurses’ home and kissed her for about two hours and she didn’t seem to hate it, but since then nothing.
Thursday 26th March 1981
Fay came up to my room all right. I was showing her a lot of manuscripts, and as she was looking at Rogues’ Rhapsody I got her by the shoulders and started to kiss her. She lay back on the bed and let me carry on, but with her hands up, as if it wasn’t quite what she was expecting. Soon she sat up, smiling and frowning at the same time.
“I came here to look at books, I really did.”
So I let her get on with that, and afterwards we had a chat about writing. She’s keen to get into the game.
“Let me see you on the typewriter there,” she said.
I obliged, rattling away at the first gibberish that came into my head.
When she was ready to go we arranged that she would come to the “literary evening” at Fred’s tomorrow night. (She’s calling up here so she can get a lift with me and Harry.) I gave her a peck as she was going and she turned it into quite a passionate kiss.
Have you seen the dispreputable book that these entries predate, The Angels and the Slags? To check it out, click here.
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A stand-alone short story about Vauclare, the anti-hero of Easy Blood, has been put online at the fabulous Back Road Café. Check it out here.
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