TUE JUL 1

Nat and his friend Greg are having difficulty finding a drummer for their band. This is hardly surprising, as Greg has named the band—using a smattering of his 0-level studies in biology—after the androgynous human embryo’s undeveloped genitalia. His grasp of Latin is atrocious. Nat is amused by it and seems to relish the embarrassing nature of the band’s name. Greg had formulated the name before even meeting Nat, let alone hearing of his primal therapy experiences.

The two youths are already close. Greg is a vegetarian and so shares at least this one life-affirming characteristic with Nat. He also has pretensions to anarchism and feminism, but essentially the main similarity is an indulgence in the macabre. Wisely, Greg is going to stay on at school for the sixth form. They talk for hours about their “illnesses”: Greg has had many operations for his condition and still needs some more cosmetic surgery. Their relationship seems to be exclusive, Greg being shunned by his classmates and regularly harangued and heckled in the street. Exclusive relationships can always be dangerous, particularly when they dwell upon the negative. I therefore recommended to Nat a well-balanced young man of my acquaintance: a serious student of music, but also an avid player of the drums. But Nat was not interested when he found the prospective candidate had no interest in punk.

MON JUL 7

Nat has found a drummer for his band, someone he knew vaguely at school called Jim to whom he refers as “Imbecile”. I am content to overlook his prejudices whilst his outside interests are gaining momentum. Actually as one of Nat’s former friends (a general practice patient of mine) pointed out, “in these days of super-egalitarianism Nat’s comments serve as a welcome corrective”.

Greg is unhappy with the new recruit. Skilled as Jim is, having mastered, Nat tells me, the basic techniques at the age of seven, he does not share Nat’s political ideals and, horror of horrors, is not even a vegetarian. He prefers to spend his time when not rehearsing consuming alcohol and meat pies (he only eats meat), down the pub. Nat and Greg are also ambivalent about having someone of such professional stature within the band: Jim does session work for several local commercial groups. It seems enthusiasm and raw energy are the essential ingredients of punk music and Greg is somewhat hypocritical in his denouncements, as he has been having bass lessons for over a year. Therefore the band rely on Nat’s shouting and screaming and elementary but weird guitar “antistyle” to supply them with an authentic punk sound.

Last week Nat bought an electric guitar and something called a “fuzz-box” which distorts the sound (as if an electric guitar wasn’t distortion enough!) Jim supplies the rest of the equipment and they practice at his house. Greg and Nat are ferried there and back by their parents. Some anarchists!