I informed Nat of my intention to remain in medicine. He smiled.

MON SEP 22

I had some rather bland dreams last night. The material was so normal and banal that I shan’t even bother to record it.

TUE SEP 30

I dropped by at Nat’s house today. I caught him just before he set off on his daily excursion to Greg’s. He is still receiving his unemployment benefit—just. They send him for interviews, but he doesn’t go, so they suspend the giro-cheques for a while and then reconnect him. I passed on to him some information that I have heard, namely that the amount of dole money paid out to individuals is specifically designed to be insufficient to live on. Even with his frugal lifestyle, Nat had detected as much. He dislikes taking the payments, or “benefice-stipend” as he automatically refers to them. He is happiest during the intervals where he receives nothing. However, he is also loath to change his lifestyle. I cannot understand why he refuses to speak to his fellow claimants when he sees them every other week for the “signing on” ritual.

FRI OCT 3

Nat’s band have been booked for their second gig, obtained for them through a friend of Greg’s mother. It sounds like a highly dubious affair: playing to a hall full of child and juvenile spastics. I hope the hierarchy at the spastics’ centre know what they are letting themselves in for. Surely it is imperative for Nat to tone his act down? Perhaps he has already arrived at that decision; after all, a captive audience is guaranteed.

WED OCT 22

Nat’s band were pleased with their second live appearance. Jim and Greg had to take a couple of hours off from work and school respectively. The band and their equipment—which although “small” by usual standards was considered plenty big enough for the purpose in hand—were all picked up in a white minibus. As for the concert itself, several children had minor fits and vomitings, one or two defecated on the spot, whilst some even enjoyed it. The majority, however, remained unmoved. The workers at the centre felt it to be a “valuable experience”, relieving monotony for patients and staff alike. Still, they would not be requiring the ensemble’s services again.

Some of the spastics were very enthusiastic about it all. One demanded the autographs of each member of the band, and Jim’s drumsticks. One incident described by Nat was particularly poignant: “one poor fellow with no arms—thalidomide—sidled up to the little stage whilst we were packing up and asked for a kiss. I obliged: on the lips”. My guess is that Nat was the more appreciative of this shared intimacy.