_. They, the hungry mob, left at about 3am, and Sue and Pete retired to her suite for a night of passion. I collapsed in bed after threatening to photograph my dear sister and common-law squash playing lover and sell the negs to a leading Sunday newspaper. She thinks I'm the most extremely vulgar chap she's ever laid eyes on. She is taking this a bit far. I may be occasionally lewd and shocking, but vulgar never.
I stayed in bed until almost noon, and then we went to Burley-in-W to eat fish and chips and have a couple of drinks at the Red Lion. Then on to the Shoulder of Mutton. Felt much better today, but dull because I had an evening at the YP ahead of me. Sue and Pete went up to Morrison's to buy prawns and steak for tonight, and I wallowed in the bath.
To the YP at 5pm for a quiet, almost pointless evening. Spent the entire time filing cuttings. Home at 12 in a taxi with a silent, brooding driver, who just said 'hello' and then 'goodbye'. Previous drivers have given me graphic details of their sex life, of pet snakes, and tales of WAAFs in far-off Burma and BFPO Hamburg. Colourful experiences. But tonight's was the worst.
Sue made me a glorious prawn cocktail and a very bloody steak. Sue and Peter succumbed to the call of the bedroom, and so I sat noshing, quite alone.
Read an interesting article in one of the papers about Lady Soames and her forthcoming biography of her mother, Clementine Churchill. Should be interesting, though Clem isn't one of my favourite personalities.
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