It's been a long week and you have no idea just what it feels like to be sat at home on a Friday evening with the prospect of a good weekend before you.
I was never designed for work one bit. I should be in St Tropez with three debutantes around each arm and a crate of good champagne on the table before me. Alas, we members of the Landless Peasantry don't stand much chance.
Home on the train and feel more than half-knackered. However, after tea, and a session with the stereo I'm quite rejuvenated.
CB rings to say she's going out with Philip again tonight. Do I envisage a reconciliation? It is Christmas coming and you know what they say about good will? It would ease my conscience slightly if they breach was healed because sometimes I cannot look Philip in the face without thinking 'Oh you swine, Michael'. Nevertheless, CB was the one who severed the connection and all I can be labelled really is an accessory to the crime.
'Prisoner at the Bar, how do you plead?'
'Guilty, M'Lud.'
Carole and I go to the Hare & Hounds at 8.30 and see Andy and Linda who say that they are going to the airport for a meal on Dec 20th to celebrate their engagement. Carole is unenthusiastic about going, but I can't refuse really. People don't get engaged every day do they? (Well, other than Rex Harrison that is).
I came home on the bus with CD. It is an incredibly cold night and both of us dreaded having to get off into the foul, freezing night air.
Watch tv until close-down with Lynn, Dave, Sue, Peter, Mum & Dad.
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