_. 21st Sunday after Trinity
To the Plough at lunch with Ally, Graham and Gill. It's an afternoon soiree for Graham who is resigning as barman to become an executive in Gloucestershire. Gill and I sat with pale and ghastly faces, gently moaning. A pity really because the salmon and hot punch looked very good. Ally ate like a horse and put away my share. I was very happy to quit the pub at 4:30 though.
The evening was weird and peculiar. To a dinner party at Graham Smith's place. [He was Ally's boss when she was employed at Wessex Area Health Authority]. We sat down to dine but only Ally and I ate. They watched, saying they were dieting. Who the bloody hell throws a dinner party and refuses to eat? Charlotte fussed over her cats, Oscar and Biggles, kissing them with nauseating regularity. Strange and odd, but aren't they all odd in Hampshire?
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