Halloween 2007. At work we had a spooky horror tour in the tunnels that lead down inside the cliff to the beach. (They are rumoured to be actually haunted and there have been seances held there.) It was very lovingly made by the Newhaven Fort staff. And in the café we made 'witches brew' which was hot chocolate with with sweets and stuff in it. It was the final week of the season. The climax of the season and at Newhaven Fort, Halloween was an important festival, a lot of effort was put into the decorations and events: spiders, cobwebs, a big vampire standing by the door.
At the end of this week I will be unemployed until March. Who was I working with then? Kirsty or Jess, the local girls, or Amy, or Francesca, the student with colourful hair who I furiously fancied? Ed, the janitor apprentice would come in and chat, so affable and enthusiastic, or sardonic Phil, or stuck-up, Daily Mail-reading what-was-her-name from the shop, or Chris (lady) from the shop, who I saw recently at the library, she thought I was a socialist because I read Dostoyevsky when it was quiet, or Charlie, the old man who often came into the café and stood around with his big smile, he represented the war veteran, always slightly lost in this strange peacetime world, seeking solace in the memorabilia of the museum.
At home, it's apparent from the opening paragraph that I had an argument with my girlfriend and I think she split up with me. I then go on masochistically to write about the beginning of a fictitious passionate love affair.
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