_. 5th Sunday after Trinity
Up at 9. Eggs on toast with Ally before she left for the Belfry at Bolton Junction [why do I insist on telling you where the Belfry is?]. Mum has a bad stomach and claims it's a chill that's been creeping up on her all week. She spent the day incarcerated in bed.
The Sunday Express has another article re the Prince of Wales and Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. All stuff and nonsense.
I sat watching TV all afternoon and my entertainment included a diabolical, yet entertaining, 1962 epic entitled 'The 300 Spartans'. Ludicrous dialogue. Dad joined me and we giggled from our armchairs.
Sue and Pete appeared in the evening for a subdued dinner. Mama was grumpy up in bed moaning that our 'squabbling' was upsetting her. Our 'squabbling' is a Sunday ritual where Susan witters on at me for not peeling the potatoes or laying the table.
We sat giggling again afterwards watching Frankie Howerd in 'Carry On Up the Jungle'.
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