SUN JUN 21

Nat’s band recorded the music for their “E.P.” yesterday and it all went extremely well. The studio engineer was most helpful “despite being a hippy”, and all three members of the band got virtually exactly what they had envisaged. Nat was a little worried about bringing the tape home via the tube train. He had heard that magnetic fields can wipe a tape clean, so the tape was placed in its box then in another box which Nat wrapped in several layers of tin foil. It should be fine if he can ever extricate it from that paper maze. I was so very pleased for him that he had finally achieved a positive experience of the outside world.

They were so engrossed in what they were doing that they did not emerge from the studio for a solid eight hours! The cost of the recording was only half as much as their first abortive attempt, and they got far better results than from that humiliating debacle.

When they did finally crawl out into the twilight, deserted streets littered with bricks and rubble greeted their already vexed countenances. There had been a riot!

Caused by their cacophony, I quipped. Nat was not amused. He pointed out, with childlike logic, that if they hadn’t heard the tumult outside the rioters couldn’t have heard the music inside either.

SUN JUL 19

Nat has managed to borrow enough money from his parents to get a thousand records pressed and covers printed. The pressing plant, or “depressing plant” as Nat calls it, seems reluctant to complete the work in good time. Nat handed over the majority of the balance in good faith two weeks ago. For fast service, he would have to pay through the nose.

SUN AUG 16

I dropped by at Nat’s. He introduced me to Greg, a charming, if reserved young man. He is not at all the “weak freak” of whom Nat had black-humouredly spoken. They were folding up photocopies of Nat’s drawings, apparently for record sleeves. I didn’t really have a chance to peruse the imagery and miniature hieroglyphics. Nat seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the drudgery; maybe he should have taken a menial factory job after all. They are expecting delivery of the records “any day now”. I admire their optimism. This excitement and activity keeps Nat out of mischief.

SUN SEP 13

Nat and Greg finally got the thousand (actually 976) copies of their “E.P.”, but not quite as easily as they had foreseen. Somewhat ignominiously, they had to haul them from North London in little brown boxes and black bin liners (how glamorous!) via trains and buses to small shops and independent distribution companies, mostly in the south of the great metropolis, en route housing each disc ad hoc in its prepared photocopied sleeve.