1st after Epiphany. In bed until lunch. No after effects from the night before and quite look forward to tonight's escapade with rellish. See Ingrid Bergman in 'Joan of Arc', a corny film. The very mention of the Maid of Lorraine puts the fear of God in me. Reminds me of having to read 'St Joan' by Bernard Shaw at school. No pleasant task by any means.
Out with Chris, Christine and Maura to the Hare & Hounds. John comes along too and does seem to be getting Christine down. He insists on plagueing her to despair, but Maura says she loves it and being pulled to pieces gives her a special pleasure. Kinky, that's what I say.
Move on to the Dyneley. Getting there is like scaling the north face of Everest (if it's got one), and if Edmund Hillary can pick up a knighthood for his endeavours I see no reason why Chris and I can't have the same. The girls don't like the place at all. Sit near the juke box listening to such hits as 'Discotheque and the Sexolets', a revolting thing really, but it keeps us smiling. Back to Westfield for fish and chips in the back of the Ratcliffemobile. After ten minutes the windows were all steamed up, and mushy peas lay thickly over the entire interior, like sediment at the bottom of a forgotten fish tank. Back home for coffee and off to bed with Baroness Orczy and 'I Will Repay'.
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