_. Peter finally sought parental consent to marry my sister in what can only be described as a dreadful, obnoxious and embarrassing scene this evening. He, the prospective groom, sat afterwards with the word Gloom engraved in capital letters across his forehead. A sense of strangulation hung over us. To escape the putrid atmosphere Alison and I decamped to the garden where we sat in damp deck chairs purporting to be searching for the poor, destitute missing tortoise. We went on a stroll into Guiseley calling at the off licence for a bottle of Martini.
No sense of excitement or joy was to be found back at home. Dave L telephoned to say he is moving to Folkestone. Is he on the run from someone or something? We discussed Christine B and her marriage and ended up on the subject of plastic buckets.
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