{Typecasting}[23rd April 1968]

[Redbook1:29][19680423:1630c]{Typecasting}[23rd April 1968][Age 16]

Tuesday 23rd April

c.4.30p.m.

            A short hailstorm has just stopped, and all the earnest cricketers have come running inside.  I'm sitting here, ostensibly working, actually pausing for a short rest at my desk in my study -- number 6, on the lower study passage and on the north side of [...] [the] House.

            A thought recently struck me.  When we watch films, we usually see the same people in the star roles again and again.  Must this not lead to a certain tendency to categorise people: so-and-so is always a villain who is misjudged but for whom everything comes right in the end, so all the villans of this type are expected to look like so-and-so.  Quite what this proves I do not know, unless it leads me to sympathise with the unfortunate people who happen to look like Orson Welles -- but they need sympathy anyway!

            I used to write poetry, once, about a year ago.  Actually, most of it was only verse, though some was near to being real poetry, I think.  But after my first poem, which I thought was awful, was accepted, all the others, which I thought were good, were rejected by the editor of the [school magazine].  So I have slightly given up.  But I really ought to copy down what I have written in this book -- it won't survive long on the sheets of paper on which I've written it.  It is all very poor, and perhaps rather childish stuff, but I have sweated blood over it.

            I have had to ["]oil["] -- serve up and clear up lunch -- for 4 days, but today was the last day.  I must go and fill my thermos with hot water from the urn now.

            I looked up some university data today.

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