Sunday October 26, 1975

22nd after Trinity. Get up in time for lunch. Tell Mum and Dad about the Craven Heifer, wherev they have never been. They like the sound of the decorations and I tell them how impressed I was with the stone fireplaces and things.

John and Maria go to Shrewsbury this afternoon to stay with Elizabeth Macdonald, Maria's elder sister who is a lecturer. You'll laugh at what I am about to say because I always say it about John's girlfriends. I realise that I said the same thing about Christine White, Carol Smith, Naomi Downing and all the others, but this time I mean it when I say that I can hear wedding bells chiming merrily in my ears. OK, so they are always arguing, but surely that is what makes a good marriage, and besides, the time they spend together in bed must mean they like one anothers company a little bit at least. I wish them all the luck in the world anyway because Maria is my favourite of all John's mistresses. They return home on Tuesday I think.

Carole rings at 2pm to say that she and her parents have had yet another disagreement. She stormed out of the house and refused to devour her Sunday lunch. I meet her down the lane at 3 o'clock and we go for a walk over the golf course. The sun is shining brilliantly and I'm looking forward with rellish to a decent hike over Baildon Moor when suddenly her shoe capsises beneath her, and though she protests that all is well, I make her accompany me home. It's dangerous to walk on uneven ground in damaged footwear. Broken bones is not the thing I want my darling to get. (Clever grammar isn't it?) We get back home and play records and listen to the radio until 7, and then we watch TV until 10. A good film starring Warren Mitchell was on, but she had to leave before it finished to wash her lovely locks, &c. I walked her to the bus stop and managed to be home in time to see the end of the film. Romantic little devil, aren't I?

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