The March winds did blow. In fact, the blowing on Hawksworth Lane was gale force. The meteorological freaks will be having a field day.
David Greenwood, Lynn's boss, is celebrating his birthday tomorrow ___________________.
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| Mum: slewed |
I came home from work to be confronted by dear Mama with the reddest face I have ever laid eyes on. She puts it down to the combination of the sun ray lamp and alcohol. She and Daddy quarrelled this afternoon and she decided to drown her sorrows. I promised not to tell a living soul that my mother has consumed a whole bottle of sherry whilst reclining 'neath the glowing lamp. She is thoroughly ashamed of herself. I say it's all well and good. If my dear old Ma can't get slewed once in a while, who can? By 6:30 Dad was still absent and she went round to Edith's.
Alexandre Dumas is a real dead beat. 'The Man in the Iron Mask' is boring me to death. After a couple of minutes with it I'm either asleep or distracted by something else.
Meanwhile: back to the excitement. At 9 o'clock I went to lay siege to the Blackwell residence and was roped into an old photo appreciation session. We had hysterics over some ancient images of Edith's granny, and much wine was partaken of in the process. At midnight Mama returned homeward and I sat with Ernest (Edith was in bed) listening to his wartime reminiscences. It was almost 3:30am when I arrived home.
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