Friday September 14, 1979

_. Grotesque hangover, and close to death. Caught sight of myself in a mirror in the gents at the YP. Frightening. The years of dissipation have taken their toll. I look like a cross between President Carter and Gloria Swanson. I really should quieten down. I could end up like Richard Burton.

I stumbled upon Christine's phone number [mislaid in July]. Rang her at 3. She married on August 18 and is now studying at night school for a degree in administration to enable her to go with Frank to the United States. She turned down my offer to go out for a lunchtime drink, saying Frank would 'hate that sort of thing' and would 'sulk for hours' if he got wind of it. Blimey, it's not as though we'd be committing adultery. However, she seems very happy and full of her old exuberance.

Out to the Central Station with Jacq. Hair of the dog, and all that. We laughed a good deal.

At 6 Ally came over and we went with Susan to Burley-in-W, and loaded her into Dave's car for our journey to Stranraer. We had a couple of drinks in Kirby Lonsdale, and then motored up that long, dark road. Poor Ally was dead to the world. Arrived at Corner House Cottage at 1am. John so pleased to see us, looking thinner. Bed at 3am.

-=-