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Sunday January 29, 1978

8th Sunday before Easter.

A nauseating day. Out of bed at 10:30 which is far too early. Sit around like a paraplegic for most of the day, generally annoying everyone.

I forgot to mention that Tony was at yesterday's Bacchanalian spectacular. ______.

Lunch was good but I could barely keep my eyes open to devour it. Endure several films on the TV and attempted to read 'Lord Peter Wimsey'. Fail miserably.

Execution of King Charles I at Whitehall.
I forgot to phone Dave G about the holiday, but then I forget most things. That's all for today now. You ought to be thankful that I bothered writing anything at all. Blimey, why should I become a martyr just for your sake? On the subject of martyrs didn't King Charles I meet his maker on a day at the end of January? Hold on a minute, I'll just go look it up in Burke's (Peerage). Yes, he was decapitated at Whitehall on January 30, 1649, and buried at Windsor. That's 329 years ago tomorrow. Poor bugger.



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