Sunday March 25, 1979

_. 4th Sunday in Lent

Drizzle, murky and gloomy. Emerged from my den with a hideous hangover. Glanced at the Sunday papers and ate grapefruit and oranges. Thoroughly boring newspapers, and I cast them aside. Who wants to read of the sexploits of a tarty 25 year-old bird from Solihull? I most certainly do not.

Discover "The Secret of Chimneys" by Agatha Christie and re-read it. Quite a light hearted read for Dame Agatha.

At a reasonable hour I made toast and tea for Mum and Dad and went up with my Mothering Sunday present [a bottle of 5am perfume]. Mum had a card from John in yesterday's post. Susan is absent, staying over at Peter's, and Lynn didn't come  - she sent a bouquet yesterday. So just the three of us here all day. I think Mum and Dad had been arguing. I sensed an atmosphere.

So, sat and read "Chimneys" all day and watched the film 'Khartoum', starring Lord Olivier. I made myself a T-bone steak and chips for lunch. Mum and Dad refused to eat.

Phoned David L at 5:30 and he came here at 8 and we joined Sue & Pete at the Commercial for lager and jars of cockles and mussels. David bought us all a Black Prussian, or was it Russian ? [Coca-Cola, vodka and Tia Maria]. We laughed about old times and I had a blow by blow account of Sandra's wedding last month. She now has two step-sons by the name of Williams. Sue and Pete seemed OK.

Saw 'The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner' starring Tom Courtenay and Sir Michael Redgrave.

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Monday January 12, 1976

Not a spectacular day at all really. I ring Denny about the San Antonio holiday and she gets us in, provisionally, at the Pacific Hotel. However, when I contact Chris he tells me he is now unable to get July 3-17 for his summer holidays and says he'll ring me tonight. The boy's a failure.

At lunchtime I ring West Yorkshire bus service to make enquiries about the bus service from Kirby Malzeard to Leeds. It isn't as bad as all that and I'm cheered up somewhat by the timetable. Carole rings shortly afterwards and is full of cold. She tells me that she wept herself unconscious in bed last night over the incidents of the weekend and asks me whether I've forgiven her for acting ridiculously. I assure her that I still want to go out with her and arrange to see her at Maria's tonight. I don't think Mrs Mac will like visitors running all over the house at a time like this but Carole insists I go.

Home for tea at 5.45. Sue tells me that Agatha Christie died today. I don't hear anything about this on the news however, and no doubt I will have to wait for the morning papers to announce this sombre news. She was a brilliant writer, and I will always look upon her books with reverence and respect.

Go to Maria's at 8.30 and sit feeling quite ill. A sudden cold seems to have descended upon me. Maria is in high spirits and has taken her grandfather's death very philosophically. Her attitude is that he's in a better place now and he's the last person we should worry about.

John brings me home at 11pm. I've been sat with Carole all night. We didn't say much, but I suppose the trauma of the weekend is very much on our minds.

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