The Joys and Torments of Youth

Post date: 01-Nov-2020 13:01:13

The Joys and Torments of Youth by Paul Ernest

In 1959 Paul Vaughn gave me a hardbound, wine coloured book with blank pages in which I decided to keep a diary starting 1 January 1960. The contents are reproduced below. I was 15 years and 3 months old, in my fourth year at secondary school William Ellis. My girlfriend of 12 months, Anne Heller, who lived in the flat below us, had moved to the USA. I lived with my family in a flat at 13-15 Frognal, NW3 across the road from a residential hotel where I washed up each weekend. In the Autumn of 1959, I had been barman at the Hampstead Young Socialists nearby in Broadhurst Gardens and had regularly been drunk on cider at the Friday night social evenings. I had loads of friends and acquaintances and had started going to the Witches Cauldron, as well as political demonstrations. Easter 1960 was the date of the first Aldermaston March I went on, also the first that started at Aldermaston and ended 4 days later in Trafalgar Square. When I looked back on the contents of this diary a few decades ago I found it deeply embarrassing, with its laughable attempts at humour, embarrassing revelations of my needy and childish behaviour, obsession with girls, and the sharing of my feelings of loneliness. Now, more removed and less ego-involved with the text I see it as an insight in the feelings and obsessions of the immature mind, and as such, worth sharing. I had forgotten that I had these feelings and how powerful they were at the time. I suppose the most embarrassing elements now are the homophobia and sexism. I leave them unredacted as they were part of the shared outlook of the day.

The following is reproduced verbatim. I am very grateful to Jill for typing this up for me! Editorial additions in square brackets.

A DIARY FOR THE YEAR 1960

Plus any additional thoughts I may wish to put down which will be included in the general notes.

Paul Ernest

Friday, January 1^st 1960

I woke up this morning at about 9.00a.m. as I went to bed early, last night, and so had plenty of sleep.

After getting up, eating cereal for breakfast it was 10.40, so I phoned up David [Wallis-Jones], and invited myself over for the morning. I arrived at about 11.30 and read comics and suchlike. After a while we went for a walk, and then we had lunch, by the time that was over, it was 2.00p.m., so I cycled to my Latin tutor, but there was a notice saying (the notice was just above his bell) that he would be back at 2.30, so I proceeded (cop!) to Sunita’s, where I met her and Mike [Moiseiwitsch], who I like a lot, and Miles, who I don’t object to all that much. I hung around, embarrassed, till I left at 2.25, for my Latin tutor’s.

When I arrived at his place he was there, his wife had just had a baby girl. We worked at French verbs and an unseen Latin translation till 3.40, when I cycled back to Suniti’s. They were all still there and we fooled around, till 4.00, when we had tea(!). Suniti phoned Judy Brandt, who we met somewhere at 5.00, when Suniti also posted a package. We all tramped back to Suniti’s where we horsed around, told jokes, played chess and records. I was miserable most of the time because, Suniti kept cuddling up with Miles, and generally made love to him, I managed to stand it till 8.00 when, after I phoned Mom, we all left, I cycled home and ate some supper. When I had eaten, I changed clothes, and cycled off (at 9.00) to Paul’s, where there was a party.

Paul [Vaughn] showed me some of his more recent constructions, and I attempted to draft a plan for one. After that, we sang some skiffle while Paul strummed his guitar, and Mark [Vaughn] ‘rattled’ his washboard. Some of the guests came in, we discussed an art exhibition which, a man, Sylvio Mee (who was there) was opening on the 28^th January. Later the people drifted out again and we struck up some more “music”, then, at 11.30, Paul, Mark and I walked over to my place, where we ate some bread, and fried some bacon, then, after collecting some Rock ‘n’ Roll records, we walked back, rolling about a shilling of Mark’s, in coppers, down the streets, ahead of us. When we got back we played poker a bit in Paul’s room, till Mom started to want me to go, so I hid under a bed, and then in Jasper’s room, we played poker in there, for a bit, until at about 1.30a.m., I decided to leave, fearing the anger of my parents. Bunny and Bernice [Krickler, friends of my parents] offered me a lift home, but having a bike, I cycled, was in bed by 2.00 a.m.

Saturday January 2^nd 1960

After a good night's sleep, I woke up at about 10.30. I clambered out of bed around then, and after a phone call from Suniti, announcing that she couldn’t come to Paul’s party, this afternoon (evening – really) I retired to the living room, with the latest issue of Time, to learn up on world events.

At noon, Edna insisted that I dress so she could clean up my room and could fold my pyjamas. This I did, and by the time I had completed this task, Mom, my mother, returned from shopping; I snatched the latest copy of a certain evening newspaper, and read the latest sordid details of murders and other crimes. This paper had a page completely devoted to jokes which were pretty corny! The time drew on, and after lunch and a discussion with my mother about sexuality in this world, triggered off by my mention of Sylvio Mee, who was at the party yesterday, and it seems he is a notorious homosexual, which is about the gist of my thoughts, yes lordy.

After this, I made a phone call to Ruth Hilton asking her to accompany me to Paul’s party. At first she accepted, mistaking me for Paul Rock, but when my true identity was revealed, she decided against coming, and refused, this was my last hope smashed, what an evening it is going to be, no girl I know well to neck/snog etc with; CRUMB referring to me, dear reader, not you.

These last few days have been rather disconcerting to me, I am very lonely I have no intimate relationship with any girl, any way not enough to be able to confide in one, or to pin my hopes, fears and desires to, in the form of love. I feel frustrated. The whole world is here for the picking, but I exist in a small world or sphere of my own, a segment of life, but within it there exist no lovable objects (girls, that I worship) and how can I be brave enough to step out side my haven of misery, loneliness and protection which has been my home for several years. The trouble with me is that I count for much, I exist in one world, but on the porch of another, I catch occasional glimpses, but I know a lot of what I don’t see, and I am jealous that I can’t do what I see others do, or hear about, when I learn that I can’t, I get preoccupied with some fragment from the other world, until it melts in my hands, leaving me with a broken heart, a feeling of frustration and an insuperable feeling of loneliness.

I have come to the conclusion that the only answer, is to get hooked up properly (engaged) and thus drown my unhappiness in joy, and revival of old sensations.

Any way, to get back to the subject, after my phone call to Ruth I went to do the washing up at 30 Frognal. I was out by 5.00, having received 7/6d for my work, which is more than I deserve. At my home arrival , I played records and wrote this diary until 6.15 when I watched T.V., until I changed, to go to Paul’s party. At around 6.40 Pip and Asa [Benveniste] arrived, and we all watched T.V. until 7.30 when supper was served.

As I was not in the mood for soggy rice plus goo, I ate only an orange and some bread. I was soon finished and I quickly donned my jacket and left for Paul’s. I arrived at his house, at 8.00, after an invigorating walk down dark streets. I rang the bell, and the familiar buzz of the lock reminded to push open the door. Jasper had rushed down the steps and helped me upstairs, where he removed and hung up my jacket.

Seeing that the main room was full of older people, I went into Paul and Mark’s room, where a familiar crowd was gathered round a record-player. They motioned me to sit down, and I as did so, Tony Jackson’s hands reached out from under a bed, and grasped my legs. There were smiles all around, and I sized up my company. Apart from Paul and Mark, there was Tony, Valerie, Adela and her French cousin and a boy who I had seen before. We talked, some of us (not me!) jived, I downed a couple of ciders, which hurt!, boy, do I loathe the taste of cider. Soon a crowd had gathered next door (of about thirty) so we turned on the lights, stopped horsing around, and vacated the room for the larger. In the larger room, we formed a select circle (all 6 or 7 of us) and watched the several other little parts of the party. Suddenly I saw Ruth Hilton, who I knew was coming, I had been waiting for her, and this was my big moment (like hell!). But anyway I stared at her for about 10 minutes, until she moved as if she was going, so we all, under my instructions, proceeded to our original room, but Ruth skilfully came back, so I stayed, but as I was bored stiff I went into Paul’s room, where the lights were off, and only a couple of candles were burning, which were soon put out. I downed (as before) a couple of pale ales and put on a display of drunkenness, for some inexplicable reason we all went back to the main room, where I, taking control of an opportune moment, manipulated myself into Ruth’s presence, she sends me! We chatted till about 9.15, when I took her into Paul’s room to show her the mob, but they, looking very stupid, caused no impression on her, so we retreated. Meanwhile another girl, a friend of Ruth’s, called Francis, I think, worked herself into the conversation, which in half an hour, covered myriad of subjects, including: The attitude of the Highgate C.N.D., also the (Liverpool) Politics: the education of German youth to regard Hitler as a hero, the drawing of swastikas on synagogues, Fascism, the world situation. We also mentioned other subjects, but they have slipped my mind. Ruth said she was tired as she had had many late nights in a row, and her mother was picking her up in an hour (at 11.15).

By this time the mob had gone, they left at 9.40, how early can one get? I think they are all nuts! so are you. [Insertion in unknown hand, probably my young sister Sue’s.] I hung around Ruth for ages proffering her drinks, chairs, and generally making a nuisance of my self, but at least Francis appreciated it. Time wore on, I quit Ruth, for a while and got slightly boozed up, frequenting the W.C.. By now the crowd in the main room had dwindled to 15, as the other twenty odd had locked themselves in the three other rooms (except kitchen room). The atmosphere began to get more relaxed and I was semi-sodden, so I took my sweater and glasses off, but after smashing a bowl full of orange peel and collapsing on the couch, I put my sweater back on. Soon the party began only a dozen or less of us left. Two boys plus me, pretended there was a girl on the double bed and dived onto it, I, tipping over an ash tray in the process, but who was worried? Ruth’s mother came, but went down to her car while some hamburgers (tiny ones!) were cooked. We all had some, and then, they all left, the remaining six or so of them, anyway left in Ruth’s mother’s car (which was a Morris Minor), though not before I shook hands with them all, kissed Ruth twice on her hand and Francis once, in the same place.

There was only Jasper, Mark, Paul and I left, and it wasn’t even midnight, so we all went into the main room and discussed things. We decided it was quite a good party, even though it had been an early one. The main fault had been the almost cold atmosphere, which prevented much mixing (on my and my friends part).

Then we thought about Sylvio Mee and were much relieved that he had not come. We went over what we considered were the causes of homosexuality. Jasper thought it was environment rather than spontaneous or hereditary in its causes, personally I don’t really know but still we had a good discussion. At 1.00 mom or pop phoned and said that they were coming to pick me up in the car, in half an hour, at 1.30, at the same time as they drove Pip and Asa home. We had a couple of wrestles, some vigorous pillow flights, and I took out a large amount of tobacco from some cigarette stubs, which were in an ashtray. We all began to tire, and were all stretched out on the double bed when mom, pop, Pip and Asa came.

They asked us what we had done whether it was fun etc. and Ernie told me that it had ended at the right time etc. Then he told us about ‘Quatermass and the pit’, of which he had just seen the last three episodes. He went over the whole story in great detail, taking upwards of twenty minutes, right from the beginning, to the very end. Then we made out salutary farewells, I shook hands with them all (Mark, Jasper, Pip, Paul and Asa) and then left, down the steps. I sat in front in our car, and we arrived home at about 2.10, and I was in bed asleep by about 2.30. Sleep soft sleep, resting my weary body on my metal sprung bed, which stinks! My opinion of the girls I know has gone up and down a bit since I last wrote it, but here it is:

Ruth I think Ruth is nice. She isn’t out for as many kicks as it looked like before, and converses well, and isn’t snobbish.

Mary Mary is quite sweet, I respect her in several ways, but I am contemptuous of her in others, i.e., she is sort typically English, and tries to show her independence of her family by her C.N.D. badges and her youth groups.

Suniti Suniti I am afraid to say, seems to be a bit of a tart, not too much, but to say it, as she is my current heart throb, but the pain of her behaviour is dulled almost completely.

Valerie Valerie seemed sweet, quiet, and is quite attractive, but I am deeply insulted by her because she accepted Tony’s advances, but not mine! But then she knows him better, and probably does not like me. Ugh!

Adela Is quite nice, her company is quite nice, I would not make love to her, but she’s ok otherwise. She is lousy at make up and her hair stinks.

Gwyn Very immature, sweet but also either ok for a night, but no more. Tries too hard, attractive to some. Childish but grownup in other respects. (But she is young.)

Francis Good to talk to, good company, but to make love to, not very attractive, but very nice and considerate.

Anne Out of me life! Oh I suppose (?)

Angela Looks better that Anne, but is a snob! Pleasant, but talks too much. OK?

Jill Not much us, dislikes me, and I don’t like her much. Just had a quick crush on her.

Carol Small, quite attractive and doesn’t mind me, but is Paul Rock’s.

Susan B. Sweet, young, innocent, worth exploiting, must see her when she returns and encourage her. She is nice.

Well those are the new girls that I know, I must know more, but not very well so I can’t remember any more, except Judy Brandt who is nice, and of course Suniti’s sisters, who are much too old. Michele Veldman is too old for me as well, even though I like her quite a lot. Well, that’s the lot.

Sunday January 3^rd.

This morning I woke up at about 10.30, and was up at 11.45, when I had breakfast. After that I retired to bed again, with this diary, and while playing Little Richard and Elvis Presley I wrote, for about two hours encompassing the whole of yesterdays activities, in a very long and boring report. I was forced to get up and dress, so I did so and had eaten my lunch by 2.40. After that I started writing again, until I started thinking about my affaire with Suniti.

We had started off on a firm footing, when I took her to see The Face [Bergman], and she had been so nice then. Almost every day after that, I came round to her place, in the evening, we had talked, necked, billed etc. and had a generally good time. The Sunday following, I took her to The Five Pennies, and she came over for supper, and then we went to her place. I got a little further than usual, but that’s how it goes. I saw her a bit after that, and then we were separated by Christmas, but we were going to go out on the Sunday after Boxing Day. Somehow that got put off, and then we began to go our own ways. Miles was hanging around the house a lot, and she asked him. On Monday I turned up, unexpectedly, much to her annoyance, and that evening she sent me a letter which I got the next morning. That evening (before I received the letter) I went back, and as soon as I touched her she moved away, but then I gave her the Feiffer, so she must have realised I liked her. Anyway I received a letter, unmistakably in her handwriting, stating 1) She hated me, 2) I shouldn’t go barging into peoples house like that! 3) I wasn’t worth the postage 4) Good riddance to bad rubbish.

So that was the end. I thought she might have written it in rage, but when I phoned her pop (what a crumb!) slammed the phone down.

On Thursday I tried phoning her again just to check, and she acted as if nothing was wrong, so on Friday I went to her house again, which is all stated towards the beginning of this Diary, but it seems that we are through.

At 3.20 I went down and washed the car, which took me till 4.00. Then I walked to No.30, Frognal where I washed up all the dishes for that day, and a lot of remnants from the day before. I was out by 5.00, with a crisp new ten shilling note in my hand, which my white clean hand thrust deep into one of my pockets, at the same time pulling out my watch, my faithful time keeper, that has adorned my left wrist since the days at my primary school, George Eliot, more than four years ago. I made my way across the darkened street thinking hard, about everything that there is to think about especially about the point of life, as it must come to an end, and my apparent loneliness which appears every time I am on my own, and have no definite task to do.

Then I start to think, and usually this is the beginning of a miserable period.

When arrived home, I phoned up Paul [Vaughn], but he was not in, so I phoned up Pete Simonyi [friend from primary school] and as he was out I fooled around, and wrote this diary, played records till about 6.30 when I phoned him again, and this time he was there, and so I invited him over, and he arrived just as I was gobbling down my supper. He came in and as he happened to have the latest copy of ‘MAD’ I spent the next hour reading it and playing L.P’s, for him to hear. Then at 8.30 he left, so I phoned up Paul who actually stayed (when he came) till 9.00 (he went that early because he has school the next day and was going to bed early.

At 9.00 a play on the TV started so, fortified with a bowl of cereal, and an orange, I sank into a deep hypnotic coma, under complete control of the TV. Eyes glued to the screen I watched a badly performed farce starring Terry Thomas. The play was rather childish, but amused me for an hour and a half until 10.30. Then Highway Patrol started, and finished, with me, with a rather bemused smile on my face, watching a bunch of fools shooting each other to bits. What mugs. The program afterwards was just too much, so I turned the set off and read till 12.30, when my parents returned. I rushed into my room, but not fast enough, and they found me undressing. I was in bed quickly and asleep by 1.00 a.m. and did not dream at all.

Monday, 4 January

I woke up exceptionally early, this morning, at some time around 9.00, and had dressed and played with the cat, a lot, until around 11.00, when I dressed again, as I had not really dressed the first time. But this time I really had dressed, so I quibbled with Susan, beat her up, swapped her some junk (money mainly) for a box, which I am about to give to Susan Barnett, as a late Christmas present.

Time drew on, and thinking I had better equip myself for the oncoming Party, this evening, I bought myself an 1/8 size bottle of Martell Cognac, which cost me 6/8d. Then I phoned up Tony Barnett, twice in fact, but the phone made a queer noise so I imagined they have moved, and that number is not connected any more. To check I phoned up Steve Goldblatt, but his mother informed me that he was not in and assured me he would get in touch shortly. I hung around the flat, wondering when I should see the Barnetts, i.e. Tony and Susan. I must see Susan again soon, if only to try and keep the dying embers alight. She is a nice girl, rather young, but if I can kindle a blaze in her, then she may go on loving me through some years that follow, and she has more than the fundamental rudiments of a good figure and should be very pretty soon, actually, all she needs at the moment is a new and much better hair style, and I would be quite prepared to accept her as my girl friend, but her mother thinks that she is too young to go out (quite rightly too!) and so I am deprived of her company. She should be back from where she went on holiday, Northampton, I think, and then I can give her the presents that I have bought her, i.e. A china horse, and a box, a rather nice one, covered with marquetry designs, and opening by a secret catch hidden under a moveable slat of wood. I like it very much, and I think it is just the thing for her, as she could keep letters, or jewellery of something like that in it, anyway, I hope she likes it.

After my unsuccessful attempt to reach Steve, I made some soup (warmed a can of it) which I had half eaten when Steve phoned. We had a long chat, mainly about the party tonight, and he said that the Barnetts could have moved, and there was no doubt something wrong with the line. So we said goodbye and hung up. Then I tried to phone up Suniti, but Priti told me she was out, but would phone me when she came in. So we hung up, and I went out armed with my not so crisp 10 shilling note, with (oh dear, I’ve already spent that on the Cognac, as a matter of fact I was going to mention going out and getting another, but as I have only one, that would be lying, and that I must not do! (Sorry, shows you what a lousy memory I have, that was only this morning!)

As I had had lunch, it was afternoon, so I played records and sat on the window sill watching passers bay, and writing this diary.

Time passed slowly and I tried to work on a shield for the Ernest family which worked out as a rather feeble emblem, which I have drawn which consists of 6 ‘E’s drawn together.

But to get back to the subject, as time progressed, I started to read some books, and then, bored stiff, I phoned up Paul, hoping he could come over, but Pip told me he was out, so I phoned Pete Sim, who was just about to go to a French tutor, so it was hard luck on me! Mom came home, I read a snippet of the paper but she took it back, so I played Elvis and Buddy etc. writing this diary till supper time, at 6.30 p.m. I had some spinach and some tomato, but I couldn’t stomach any more, as I had eaten some sandwiches, not so long ago. I ate quickly and at about 7.15, after reading the newspaper, I hit upon the notion of taking a bath, So I did, and was out by 7.40 when I dressed, brushed my grey suede shoes and donned them and collected 15 records to take to the party. I walked down to the bus stop with my usual air of elated feeling of bigness, which seems to come to me whenever I wear these particular shoes. The bus was not long in arriving, a ‘2’ it was so I hopped on and sat down. The conductress (as she happened to be) accepted my 5d. and in return gave me a flimsy piece of ticket, as an acknowledgement of my payment, and soon I asked when the last bus, and got the well articulated reply of “I dunno, luv, but there’s usually un’ around ‘leven-thirty”. “Thanks a lot”. “Yor welcome, dearie”, showing her prowess in her native tongue, and the large extent of words her vocabulary covered. But she was nice enough and served the fulfilment of her function.

The bus stopped at Golders Green terminal so, having no other choice and not wanting and other choice, I stepped off and walked in the direction my imperfect memory served to remember.

As usual, when I reached the road she lived in, I worked out, flexing my mental arithmetic to its uttermost degree, the number of houses that separated me from hers, and by subtracting one for every house I passed, soon was mingling with a gay throng pushing and heaving (there were 6 of us) towards the door. Eventually I entered and, after seeing several people who I recognised, was forced up the stairs, and directed by Carol Berger into the room in which I was supposed to dump my coat (and so I did). My records taken away from me, I learnt that there wasn’t a record player at hand, but Pete Jaffe was bringing one. I entered the seething riot, and was confronted with Paul [Rock], Sean [Sayers], Jo [Whitaker], and another crumb who I know from school. I walked into the main room, walked round once, and then spotted Jill Gilbert, and remembering Pete’s idea about her (i.e. She hated me) I beat a shy retreat (i.e. my course) and embarrassedly tried to mingle again, out side, but it didn’t work. Paul Rock pulled out a bottle of whisky from his pocket (1/4 bottle; White Horse, scotch) and took a swig, he told me that I wasn’t getting any as they didn’t want any suicides, so I really choked him by pulling out my bottle of Martell Cognac which increased his esteem in me (so he wanted some) then I went into the kitchen, filled a glass with BEER and sauntered into the party. When the smell of my liquid reached certain people’s noses, there were wild screams of delight, and they all rushed in to the kitchen but it was gone. With howls of rage they rushed back to me but I had finished it, luckily for me. I met Judy Brandt who said “hello”, I met a girl called Noel Brandom (or something) who was sweet, and seemed to know my name (through Suniti). We talked a bit, and then I went back to the kitchen to get some more drink, and on my way out Jill said “hello Paul” in that sexy voice she has. She is wonderful, Jill, and she has a pleasant mannerism of leaning over towards you as she talks, and looking at through those marvellous eyes of hers, she drives me insane, she is the most beautiful girl that I know, and is just as good as Sheila etc. who can’t be as good as Jill.

The fact that she actually talked to me, and shoved Norman [Allen] away to talk to me has flattered me more than I have ever been flattered before. She even sat on the couch next to me, and tried her best to encourage me to neck with her, but I was so shy, that I couldn’t take even a gentle hint, like her kissing my cheek. She is wonderful, she is all I want and masses more.

The party progresses and I met several friends, like Steve Goldblatt, Marco [Goldschmied], Pete Sayers, John Duchin, David [Wallis-Jones], and masses of other people whom I had seen before and knew well. I hung around Peter a lot, and managed to down several of the punches, which consisted mainly of cider and orange squash. It stank. Some bottles of Babycham were produced out of the fridge and Pete and I each received half a glass each. As I hated the stuff, I gave mine to Pete, who was stuck with it for most of the rest of the evening. My cognac was sinking very low (the amount), as I had laced several peoples ‘punch’ with it, and had drunk half of it neat. I can’t remember what I did very well, but I remember talking to Francis, and the other girl who had been with Ruth at Paul’s party, Also I remember giving Joe a drop of Brandy in return for a cap full of gin, which is nauseating, though powerful. Judy Brandt had to go home quite early on in the party, so I walked her down to the terminus, also having the idea (not mine) of buying some more brandy, but I didn’t find a place to get any from, and I didn’t want to waste my money on the stuff anyway. Ruth Hilton’s pop kept bobbing in and out of the room, around which the party was centred, and just when I had Jill down on the couch, he came in and told us to get ready. I had to collect my records, and I have decided never to bring any records to a party again, but I got them all back, anyway, luckily.

Very worried about Jill getting swiped by someone else, and being taken home by them, instead of me, but she held out, and she was very nice about it all, to me. I think she must like me, even though she does play around a bit, but I like her an awful lot. I am very flattered by the way she was so nice to me and I will try to repay it to her sometime.

To be continued …