1st after Trinity. It was nearly 5am on June 1 before we were all allocated places of sleep at the Ratcliffe abode. John, crippled with his ankle, and scarred for life thanks to the dog, was passed out next to me in a sleeping bag on the lounge floor, and Peter was placed on a camp bed in Chris's room after undergoing harsh recouperation treatment in the garden. The poor boy was hysterical and didn't quite know who he was, or who anyone else was for that matter.
Awoke at 11.30. Mrs Ratcliffe made me a cup of tea, and I went out into the garden to mock Peter, who didn't look at all healthy propping up a lilac tree. Mrs R bandaged J's foot and she didn't bat an eye lid when he explained just how he had received his injuries.
At 12 we went to the Fleece for a couple of drinks before lunch. All the gang, except the Grahams and Smiths, came in and we sat near the fruit machine laughing about last night. Peter was in high spirits considering.
Chris leaves at 5.15 this afternoon for his new post at Hayes, Middlesex. No one really wanted him to go, but he seemed in cheery form. Peter brought me and John home for lunch at 1pm.
Dave is messing about with John's car and they spend the afternoon dismantling it.
Out with Christine to the Hare at 8.30. However, at 8.15 John learned from his employers that his services will no longer be required after next week, due to lack of incoming work. We're all astounded. Poor John - redundant.
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