The 20th birthday of Mr Ratcliffe. The post brings a letter from him, telling me of his journey down (to Hayes), and certain details about the hotel itself. A letter too from Judith R, and one from good old Dave. Tonight I persuaded John to write to Dave to remind him about the records he borrowed in April & is still in possession of.
This referendum thing ends tomorrow after what seems like months and months of campaigning and useless BBC programmes. Tomorrow night we'll all be able to breathe easily again. I'm still not going to vote, but I hate to think I am making no contribution to such a historic event. One never knows. I might be voting 'YES' by this time tomorrow night.
The Derby was run at Epsom this afternoon. Grundy won. I looked in on one of those midget tvs in the Press Hall. The Duchess of Gloucester paraded herself at the racecourse knee-deep in plaster. HRH broke her leg whilst skiing some weeks ago, but she is carrying out engagements undaunted.
Lynn and Dave sit in the dining room compiling a photo album. I retire at 10pm for a bath.
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