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Thursday November 1, 1979

_. November at last. The season of fireworks and falling foliage. I almost said tis the season for scarlet clad Yeomen of the Guard to file through the dark cellars of the Palace of Westminster in search of some foul plot, but Her Majesty is giving it a miss this autumn. One state opening of Parliament in June is quite enough for one year.

Ally came over and so does Lynn, without Dave, who is at home in bed with one of his headaches. Lynn blames the malady on the pork pie he had for lunch.

Jim and Margaret came later.

-=-

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