The great unveiling of Lucy Collis's new kennel.
John and I go up to West End Lane at about 7.30, and Sarah and I stand about while John bangs, brays, hammers and attacks Mrs Collis's kitchen like something not right. We entertain Mrs C's mother with a fine demonstration of the Yorkshire accent, which absolutely delighted her. These Northamptonshire breeds aren't all that up on dialects.
We leave at 9.30 and I get to Carole's a hour and a half late. She isn't going round the bend or anything and is quite normal.
Maria takes a different attitude and when John brings her down to the Hare she's sulking and has a face like a wet weekend.
I got the last bus home and retired to bed immediately on my arrival at the ancestral pile.
You're very lucky to be reading this, because I nearly didn't bother getting the old pen out today. You may be even luckier tomorrow.
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