Sorry about the change of ink again (from red to black). I really am quite sick of the red mess that's dominated these pages since Lynne Mather's demise in February, 1977. I do feel that the time for celebration is over, don't you?
On the subject of my 'love life' _____________________________________.
Christine phoned this afternoon. She's exhausted and flat broke and suggested we postpone our meeting until a week on Thursday. I am very disappointed but agreed to this change of plan. Instead I shall go to the Shoulder (of Mutton) with Peter and the boys. Frank (Hall) was released from hospital with nothing but bruises so no doubt he'll be out to tell the tale.
Back to Christine: she sounded positively devilish on the telephone, so much so that my laughter and loud inuendo apparently brought the office to a standstill and Kathleen had to prod my in the spine and ask me to belt up after about 15 minutes.
Saw "Roots" tonight. Later heard the Prime Minister speaking at his party conference in sunny Blackpool. He really is becoming quite an orator in his old age. But this 5 per cent pay increase limit just leaves me cold. I need an increase of about 105 per cent to bring me into the basic living wage brigade.
Callaghan should have been having a general election this week instead of mucking around at the seaside. This long drawn out farewell can't be doing any of us any good.
To bed at 11:56pm with Adolf Hitler.
-=-
No comments:
Post a Comment