_. Septuagesima
Septuagesima? What is this? From Jacq's extremely uncomfortable settee we went to Club Street for tea and toast at 9am. We clowned around listening to the radio until Ally was so cruelly taken away from me at 10:30 to the call of the Belfry. I was left at the usual bus stop on Manningham Lane, and found myself in the company a possible female Yorkshire Ripper.
Home at 'elevenish' for a second breakfast but this time with Mum & Dad. More tea and toast. For the rest of the day I was like a corpse. I am sure that even President Tito has more 'get up and go' about him today [one thing's for sure. We'd do very well together in a three legged race].
This evening I did pull round slightly to eat dinner and watch TV, and retired to bed only to escape the steel strike which is thrust down out throats night after night.
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