Another scorching day. Sheila promised to wake us at 7, but I was awake totally unaided, and go downstairs thinking the dear thing is sleeping peacefully, but no she is in the kitchen doing wonderful things with a frying pan and several sausages. What a saint she is!
We leave at about 8 and are in London for 9. Believe it or not I cannot find the palace, and have to ask a native the directions. John is greatly amused by my lack of patience. The sun is very brilliant and when the Queen, Duke of Edinburgh and Duke of Kent leave for Horse Guards it is quite stifling. (Excuse the scrawl, but I cannot write with biro. I've mislaid my fountain pen.) The Queen looks very miserable and pale and not at all pleasant, though the Queen Mother is the perfect example of radiance and beauty. Outside the palace until 1. Due to the heat we go to a pub in Piccadilly - a typical London tavern. Nip down to Knightsbridge and spend a few hours in Harrods before returning to Windsor by coach.
Go to the Safari Park till 11.15. Bed on return after playing with Hugo.
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The journal of a Yorkshire lad from the age of 17 in 1973 through several decades .... Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
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