Mum and Dad are purposely refraining from letting me know just where they are going at the weekend so that I will not make arrangements for the usual orgy. However, I am gambling that Saturday morning will see their departure north, south, east or west. They know full well that I will have a 'party'.
All Carole's letters to me are now destroyed. She sent me yet another one today vowing the usual things - eternal love, devotion, &c. I find it nauseating to say the least and will prove this by burning every item of her correspondence. Never before have I thrown letters away. June's are still intact, and of course CB's are piled up in bundles. Carole's are nothing but paper to me. The words are uninteresting and strangely false, as though she's copied the lot from a sickly, grotesque romantic novel. I would never have read them again.
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