It's 11.45pm and I'm sat here on the end of my bed watching blood ooze out of my right big toenail. Oh God I'm going to be a cripple by Christmas! However, discussing my personal injuries isn't going to get me into print and so I'll move on to more spectacular, seasonal events:
Mrs Johnson received the news of Mr Brotherwood's intended attendance next Wednesday with mixed emotions. At first she said she wouldn't be worried by his presence and in the next breath she said it may be a traumatic meeting. By 4.30 she was saying it wouldn't hurt if he did join us but her expression was far from ecstatic. I shall have to tell Tony it might be wiser if he boycotted the gathering.
Sarah and Eileen said today that Mrs J is beginning to take a fancy to me after all these years. I've always said that Carol must think I'm queer or something because every other male employee of the YP - possibly with the exception of me and the Hon Chris Monckton- have been seduced by Mrs Johnson. Am I now moving close to becoming a conquest?
The business of next Wednesday is worrying but I should ignore it and let them fight it out amongst themselves.
Saw June on the 33 bus again. She is great and I must still be greatly intrigued by her because for the first time in months I didn't fall to sleep on the journey and my eyes were rivetted to her throughout.
Just Susan, Peter and myself in until Papa and Mama come back from John & Maria's at 10 o'clock. See 'Carry On Loving' - rude, corny and poor but I laugh all the same. Up to bed after seeing a declining Earl Mountbatten of Burma present Danny La Rue with the BBC Sportsman of the Year Award. The 76 year-old Earl told a story of how a polo pony he was riding [in India in 1922] had a polo ball lodged up its anus. It went down very well.
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