_. Something of a rotten day, really. Carol staggered in to work showing all the signs of pneumonia, and sat around sneezing, wheezing and dribbling until lunchtime and then left leaving me on my own. Kathleen, of course, never works Mondays.
Saw in the the death notices of Saturday's Daily Telegraph that Naomi's Dad died on August 28. The Rev Benjamin Downing was something of a character. I remember seeing him buried in the foliage on Hawksworth Lane digging, on all fours, for dandelions for his pet rabbit's evening meal. Naomi was spotted only this weekend making merry in the White Cross.
Susan and Peter came to dinner this evening [roast pork]. She told me 'the lads' have missed me since I haven't been out with them since the wedding. They were all at the Square and Compass on Saturday. After dinner we watched 'Marathon Man' a 1976 Dustin Hoffman film in which Laurence Olivier plays a Nazi war criminal. Mum seethed over her knitting every time anybody said 'fuck'. I puzzle over why such adulation is sprayed over Sir Larry, a vastly over-rated and declining actor. His Hamlet may have been spot on, but that was 1947. Can he live off this forever?
Dad was called to an incident this afternoon where a man was burned to death whilst carrying out repairs on his car. Ugh.
To bed at 12.
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