_. Friday the Thirteenth. Wet, dismal. Muggy in fact. The YP was dismal and at 5 I slouched out into the daylight with a sickly headache, feeling decidedly clammy.
Spoke to Ally today. She reads me items from last week's Sunday Mirror including a story stating that Lady Amanda Knatchbull has returned from a holiday where she's been contemplating her future. Utter rubbish, I'm sure. I have almost given up with speculating about the Prince of Wales's marital prospects. I am considering switching my attention to Prince Andrew's future bride.
Mum and Dad went off to Joe and Anne Grunwell's silver wedding party and I took to my bed for a couple of hours. Got up at 8 with a clear head.
Watched a dreadful film starring Peter Wyngard. He brought to mind a story Dave L relates about his time in Gloucester, and where the public conveniences there were made famous after the fiendish actor was nabbed in the lavatories whilst soliciting the favours of naughty men.
Spoke to Uncle Tony on the blower. He wanted the address of Charles the tailor, in Menston, where the Pudsey contingent are hiring morning suits for Sue and Pete's wedding.
To bed at 1am. Mum and Dad didn't get back until after 5am.
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Saturday August 31, 1985
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