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Monday January 8, 1979

Pissed down with rain all day. Got a thorough soaking at 5pm.

The YP was dead. The strike is now in its sixth week. Played cards with Sarah and Carol J all afternoon which was great fun. Josephine says the YP is like a gentleman's club these days.

The flag on the flag pole on the lawn at the Flying Pizza in Burley is fluttering at half~mast following my attempt to remove it on Saturday. Lynn thinks it looks wonderful. People doff their caps as they pass it thinking that a high ranking member of the Royal Family is no more.

The bespectacled Italian manager took Josephine home on Saturday night. She told him that his food always gives her an upset stomach. They quarreled violently. Did he remove his specs for her too, I wonder? Or is that neopolitan gesture purely intended for the males of the species only? We will perhaps never have the answer to this.

I came home on the bus with the militant Peter Lazenby. We lapsed into long silences on the journey. _________.

A letter awaits me at home from Barclaycard. In fact it's a statement demanding £7 for petrol purchased at a service station in Leicester on December 18. Some swine is forging my signature, or more probably the cretins at Barclays in Northampton have pressed the wrong button on their computer. Sod off, Barclays. Sod off.

Jacq is having a (birthday) party at Linda's on February 3. It's her 24th birthday. Sarah and Carol J are going there from the Regent (that lousy, painful crowd), and Jacq seems to be spending a lot of time with them there.

Bed at 12:15 after watching a mathematical genius adding up on late night TV.


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