A recurring theme of my life for a long time was sprained ankle pain. I would go over on it at the drop of a hat. July 1986 was no exception.
My entries from July this year offer a series of snapshots of the life of a teenager navigating the trials and tribulations of adolescence in the mid-1980s. There are personal milestones, everyday routines, and significant global events, the entries follow on hard.
In many respects, it’s a bit like the line from Russell Tovey’s character, Rudge in Alan Bennet’s The History Boys. “Just one fucking thing after another.” It’s just not as well-written.
As usual, I verge from the mundane to the memorable and back again. And there are some quite stupendously ridiculous things too, like my discomfort of wearing glasses – choosing instead to attempt to get by with a single contact lens before having no choice but to revert to the bins.
There are yet more pangs of unrequited love, and a rare (justified) boastful moment as I recall how I had been awarded a cup from my school for being Mr Reliable. And once the younger types had finished school towards the end of the month, I revelled in the excitement of planning a camping trip. All these reflections capture the essence of teenage life certainly with authenticity (I was 16, I was there, I wrote it) and I hope you will agree, with a little humour too.
Embedded within are also cultural touchstones of the time, including sporting events such as Wimbledon victories, England being crap at cricket (still), and the Commonwealth Games; plus, the universal teenage struggle of finding a place within one’s peer group. Through moments of introspection, triumph, and the occasional doldrum, these diary entries offer a window into the personal growth and evolving identity of a young person at a pivotal time in their life.
Tuesday 1 July 1986
So, we moved into the second half of the year.
Due to the issue with my contacts, I wore my specs on the second day of sixth form induction.
To my diary, I made my feelings about my glasses clear in no uncertain terms “hated it… they are disgusting.” I then went on to discuss my feelings for a particular girl.
“I really fancy a wench (yes, I used the word ‘wench’) by the name of Carol – could be happening here if I go careful.”
She turned out to be yet another girl that I saw only from afar. It never once dawned on me that “go[ing] careful[ly]” is a phrase containing a verb – an action or doing word.
Wednesday 2 July 1986
Today we went ice skating.
On the bus ride there, my friends and I got talking to four girls from another school. No doubt I would have been tongue-tied as my friends did all the talking, but I was there – sort of putting it about. I also received a letter from the headmaster of my secondary school – “I [had] won a cup.”
A cup, as it turned out, for Reliability. Yes, really.
Thursday 3 July 1986
Turns out, some of my sixth form friends had also won cups.
So, I wasn’t alone in winning a cup. Well, who knew? As well as the others in my new sixth form gang, a lad with whom I had been at primary school had also won a cup.
After our last taster of sixth form life, we went paddling on the River Severn. It was the usual crew (oops, sorry) – a crew that over time, would subtly exclude me. I did not realise this until it was too late.
I would go to great lengths to attempt to ingratiate myself with the group – remember they were mostly lads that I had been at secondary school with – and indeed, they would always tolerate me, but always on the periphery of their group.
They’d never actually invite me to any of their lads’ days or nights out or weekends away, but I’d always hear about them. This wasn’t done in a ‘Ha ha, look what you missed out on,’ way, it was more that they didn’t realise that I had even heard them regaling each other with their tales of derring-do. At least I think so, like I say, I was peripheral.
Therefore, I would throw away a great chance to start my life as an independent adult and make some new friends or to find out a bit more about who I was, at the same time beginning the process of healing myself after experiencing bullying in my earlier years at secondary school.
It was also true that during this time, I had not been as good a mate to Theo, another lad that I had been at secondary school with, as I could have. I have recollections of doing my utmost with the other lads to exclude him – and a good deal more explicitly than my own exclusion.
Friday 4 July 1986
I celebrated US Independence Day by staying at home and doing absolutely nothing.
Well, I must have delivered the newspapers – and my grandmother recognised my achievement in winning the cup (for Reliability, remember) by giving me a fiver.
Saturday 5 July 1986
It “rained a bit today.”
“Although,” as I noted, “it wasn’t enough to spoil our fun – being bored stiff!” As it was the UK tennis season (aka Wimbledon fortnight) we played tennis in the municipal garages. On the point of Wimbledon, although I didn’t mention it in my diary, in the ladies’ singles final, Martina Navratilova defeated her erstwhile compatriot Hana Mandlíková in straight sets.
I re-inserted my contact lens and wrote that I “think, hope and trust it’s OK now.”
Sunday 6 July 1986
At the end of the UK tennis season, the young whipper snapper Boris Becker defeated the brooding Ivan Lendl in straight sets 6-4, 6-3, 7-5 to win the second of his three men’s singles titles.
Off the court, I went and sprained my ankle – “really badly this time.” Otherwise, I noted, it was a (please join in the chorus)… “boring day.”
Monday 7 July 1986
I didn’t go out much today – I wasn’t able to because of my ankle.
I did notice, however, that “it was quite a nice day.” I watched the fourth day of the third test match between England v India from Edgbaston. Remember, this was back in the good old days when test matches in England started on a Thursday and usually included a rest day on Sunday.
Oh, and you could watch them for the price of your (parents’) licence fee. And of course, because Wimbledon had now finished, there were no interruptions for bloody tennis*. Cricket was the only gig in town today.
At the end of the day’s play, England had scored 231-9 in the second innings, giving them a lead of 231 – since both had scored 390 all out in their first innings.
If I wasn’t watching the cricket, I was asleep. In the evening, I watched a programme about Mont Blanc on BBC2.
* I acknowledge that this was a drawback with the BBC’s coverage.
Tuesday 8 July 1986
Tonight’s diary entry sprang forth at 11:16 pm.
England and India drew the third test match – India scored 174-5 in reply to England’s 235 all out in the second innings.
Earlier in the evening, we had watched ‘Allo ‘Allo! and I noted that it “was brilliant’, adding, “as usual.” Looking back, it might be considered a tame or even safe comedy, certainly compared with something contemporaneous, like The Young Ones, but it represented an activity that we did together as a family. Laughter, the great leveller and certain great medicine.
As we move to even more individually consumed televisual media, it’s the sort of thing that happens less and less. That said, of course, my brother and I would shut Mum in the kitchen when The Young Ones was on.
It was quite a nice day and in a startling revelation, I recorded the fact that my mum had “bought me some trousers, but they don’t fit.” Well, well, well!
Eat yer ‘eart out, Nick Park.
Wednesday 9 July 1986
In the continuing saga of ‘the wrong trousers’, my mum swapped the pair that didn’t fit for one that did.
This was a “Good job,” too, as I needed them for the award evenings at school where I picked up my cup for Reliability. In a brief moment of smugness (moi?), just between my diary and me you understand, I noted, “Aren’t I clever.” No hint of irony.
I also noted, “foot better.”
Thursday 10 July 1986
Maybe yesterday’s optimism regarding my foot/ankle was slightly misplaced? For today I reported, “Foot almost better today.”
Or maybe yesterday I was allowing success to get to my head. Who knows? I don’t.
As a man of leisure with no more school and no more exams, plus my siblings and most of the other kids on the estate still at school, I played on the computer. Or rather, I attempted to because I reported that, “It is broken I think – oh dear more money gone!”
Friday 11 July 1986
“Boring day again.”
I noted that I spent some time thinking of [more] places to write to in search of a Saturday job. This session of musing must have come about because having written about a month earlier, any positive replies were obviously nonexistent. Harry Potter, awaiting his letter from Hogwarts, I was not.
I did manage to play a round of Risk (the game of military strategy) with my friend, Pete – he of get-up-at-12-midday fame. He won – must have been better rested than me. I didn’t do a lot else today.
Saturday 12 July 1986
Ah, the optimism of youth!
I “went out a bit more today, ankle much better.” I also had my hair cut (goodbye mullet?) and I noted that I just needed to get my lenses sorted and I would be away.
So far, so cryptic, but I imagine it was a reference to girls and/or my self-confidence. If you’ve kept up with my sixteen-year-old self so far, you can guess what actually transpired on that front.
If you haven’t been keeping up, what happened to you?
Sunday 13 July 1986
Evidence that I was a strange young man #5728
Today I noted that, and I quote, ‘NIGEL MANSELL WON THE BRITISH G.P. IN NELSON PIQUET’S 2 CAR!’ Now I detest motorsport of most varieties with a passion and F1 with added vehemence, so wtf could I have been on? I dunno.
On to Monday…
Monday 14 July 1986
I think that Pete was up reasonably early today as we went swimming in the baths in town.
I also did some cooking (baking more like) – can’t remember what, probably a coffee cake.
I also walked the dogs (plural) so unless we were minding our Auntie’s dog, it was Pete and me with our dog and their little terrier-type thingy. Ours was a golden lab so just loved the water but hated bangs. The terrier, known as Brian, did not like the water at all. Nosiree.
Therefore, we had immense fun throwing him in the brook and then watching him scowl at us as he scrambled out again. What will 15/16 years old boys do to get a laugh eh?
This is the same brook that one day in the Autumn of 1984 or 85 I was almost swept away. Pete and I were trying to reel in a pallet that had become entangled in the vegetation near the bank. There was I, reaching for the pallet, holding onto a branch, which obviously snapped.
Miraculously, my flailing left hand must have grabbed and caught hold of something more robust and I was able to avoid disappearing into the rapidly running stream. The pallet wasn’t so lucky, my efforts had succeeded only in dislodging it so off it floated.
Tuesday 15 July 1986
This is almost a micro-study of the mercenary nature of teenagers. AKA, what’s in it for me?
If you have them yourself by now, perhaps you’ll recognise them in this – or yourself?!
I had been asked to move some earth for an OAP neighbour across the road. Mum was quite good friends with her. But anyway, I thought perhaps that there might have been a couple of quid in it for me.
Presumably, after the event, I had indignantly noted “No chance!” All that sweat and strain to my back etc, and what for? The chance to say that I did a good deed for someone worse off than me?
Yep, that was about the long and the short of it. Not so much as a brass farthing was pressed into my sweaty palm! And, it was a “nice day”, so I doubt that it wasn’t a cool day.
Never mind, I took the dogs, plural again, for a walk, so I’m guessing that Auntie must’ve been away (sorry Brian). Also, my eye was no better. Well, what the bloody hell was that all about?
Wednesday 16 July 1986
Today was a very hot day – good job I moved that soil yesterday, eh?
I took the dogs for a walk, had a shower and in a busman’s holiday of sorts, helped Pete with his delivery of free midweek newspapers. I did this job on my own once, just once mind, and it took me ages, and I think that I received a penny per paper.
Never mind Charles Dickens or Charles Kinglsey this was modern-day exploitation of child labour at its very worst… or maybe not. We played football and I watched Sherlock Holmes on TV – it would have been the Jeremy Brett version.
A spot of research reveals that it was The Abbey Grange – first shown on this day. I know I’m biased, but Brett was the man as Holmes and the latter of his two Watsons, Edward Hardwicke the definitive sidekick.
Thursday 17 July 1986
As usual, it was “boring” today!
Pete and I went for a walk along the brook. No note about any dogs, but I’d imagine that we took them – at least one, maybe as many as three.
And good news! The pool of players (for football or Risk or Fox and Hounds, or any other of our childish pursuits) increased today as the rest of the school finally broke up for the summer holidays.
In other news, Mum was almost overrun as Dad had gone off driving a coach to Innsbruck.
Friday 18 July 1986
“Last Day of Paper Round NO CHANCE”
Some time previously, I had decided that I wanted to give up my paper round and that today would be my last day. However, letters sent on 18 June and thought about on 11 July had, obviously, not done the trick. So, pushing the Mail and other such dross through people’s letterboxes would continue to be the source of funds for my record-buying habit, surely hobby.
In more positive news, we had the genesis of an idea to go camping. We were thinking of going to Borth on the mid-Wales coast near to Aberystwyth. A wonderful old-style seaside town reachable by train from Shrewsbury.
It would be, I wrote, an “ace dos[s] £25 each,” before adding, “Borth here we come.” My God, look out Borth.
Saturday 19 July 1986
More discussions re camping apparently as, full of unbridled optimism (yes really), I wrote, “The camping idea took off today.”
I listed the Camping 6. Myself, my brother, Pete, little Steve, Milly and one more.
Sunday 20 July 1986
Today was a “nice day” – my words and very erudite they were too.
We played Risk, took the dogs for a walk, and played our favourite hiding, running and chasing game. Yep, Fox and Hounds was on the agenda and as usual, we had a complete blast.
Monday 21 July 1986
“Boring.”
After the excesses of the weekend – like what excesses? I was 16! – I got up late at 9:40. Wow! I’ll bet that my customers who wanted to read their newspaper with breakfast were pleased about my lie-in.
The camping thing had really taken shape now and although Milly had decided to give it a swerve, he was going to loan us his tent for the trip.
In fact, at this point, we weren’t planning on taking any gear of our own with us – mainly because we didn’t actually have any.
And finally, more Risk this evening.
Tuesday 22 July 1986
We collected the tent and straightaway had a trial erection in the back garden.
Of the tent! Look if you’re going to read everything with that sort of slant well, I’m sorry, but this isn’t the sort of thing for you to be reading ?
The tent was, and I quote, “‘damn easy to put up.” Once it was up, we did what all boys of a certain age should do – yes that’s right, we had an overnighter in it. I didn’t note who, but I’m presuming that it was my brother and Pete who joined me in it.
In a shocking disregard for our need for sleep (isn’t being a teenager just MAD eh?), we didn’t go to sleep until 12:30 am!
Wednesday 23 July 1986
“Slept in the tent again.”
“Me, Pete and [his brother] Slim Jim*” were the human occupants and Auntie’s dog (Blue) also joined us. Funny, but Blue seemed to expand as the night progressed. She started off occupying a decent enough space as it was – she was a big black lab, but by morning it seemed she was all over the place.
Before sleep eventually came, we had treated ourselves to coffee, sandwiches and chocolate.
* Real name John – the genesis of the epithet Slim Jim is shrouded in mystery ?
Thursday 24 July 1986
“Watched Dirty Harry (film[!]) on telly tonight.”
Perhaps not what 16-year-old boys should be watching, but heck, what the hell?
No canvas expedition tonight – back to sleeping indoors. I don’t know where my brother slept – probably at his friend’s – but Pete had his bed and I mine.
Friday 25 July 1986
Honestly, what is the point?
“Boring. Did nothing all day. Dad came back from Austria otherwise BORING.”
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating, ‘Bloody Teenagers!’
Saturday 26 July 1986
Oops – same again, ‘BORING’.
But I did have £17.37, so things weren’t all that bad. They couldn’t have been!
Sunday 27 July 1986
Now, this was the year of the Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh. I don’t know if you remember.
Anyway, in my diary, I had paid it no heed until today, but I know for a fact that I would have been glued to the telly watching it.
In fact, the games had started on 24 July and would run until 2 August. They were plagued by political controversy as many African, Asian and Caribbean countries boycotted the event due to the Thatcher Government’s attitude towards sporting contact with the then outcast (due to its system of Apartheid), South Africa.
But enough of that nonsense, today was the day when the Decathlon started and that meant only one man – Daley Thompson.
In other news, my brother and I took down the tent and “it was quite a nice day.”
Monday 28 July 1986
As expected, Thompson won the Decathlon – the margin of his victory was 490 points (8663 v 8173) from Dave Steen of Canada.
As for me and my life, well it was (predictably) “boring because it rained all day.” I must have been getting over that stage in any young man’s life when they want to go outside and play when it rains and stay in and watch TV when the sun shines.
Tuesday 29 July 1986
Sorry – it’s that word again. “Boring.”
It was “quite [a] nice day” at any rate, and I did play cricket – just me and Pete.
Also, the countdown to our camping expedition had now reached just two weeks. The excitement fairly crackled I can tell you.
Wednesday 30 July 1986
No mention of that word today you’ll be pleased to learn.
No, today I was indulging in a spot of retail therapy – I withdrew £25 from my savings account to have some money for camping and also to buy presents for my mum and my sister – both August birthdays.
And wait, it gets better – I bought Mum a bike rack!
My total fund for camping now stood at £35.
Thursday 31 July 1986
Well, well. Or, put another way, surprise sur-fucking-prise.
Yesterday was only the briefest of interludes both in terms of weather and my mood. Today we had, yep you guessed it, “boring” and “rain.”
Gah!