Monday August 25, 1980

_. Bank Holiday in England, N. Ireland & Wales

Bank Holiday maybe, but I was in the office throughout. It was a hot day too, which is frustrating, but at least I get the extra cash. Just Sarah and I. She went off to a party at Cawood at 2 leaving me holding the fort until 4. Made good my escape on a rare omnibus.

Out with Ally at 7:30 to the Dog and Gun at Apperley Bridge, and then went to inspect the menu at the George and Dragon, but we decided it didn't come up to standard. Onward to Leeds and the delights of Jacomelli's on Boar Lane. Steak restaurant. We had rare rump steaks and chatted away happily ___________.

Tony and Hilda were with Mum and Dad and T pointed out several discrepancies on my family tree.

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Sunday August 24, 1980

_. 12th Sunday after Trinity

Have a blocked head, sniffles, green dribbles. Warm enough to sprawl in a deckchair in the garden, and I did so clutching Joyce Grenfell's autobiography, a well-written tale. The book is on loan to Mum from Auntie Mabel. Joyce's husband, Reggie, is the brother of Lady Waldegrave and Lady Ballantrae [killed in a gale last March in Stranraer, when a tree fell on her], and Mrs Patrick Campbell-Preston, Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen Mother, and Joyce is a niece of Lady Astor [Nancy], the battling MP, who gave Churchill heartburn. No name dropping from Joyce in the book of course. I've worked it out for myself.

Ally came here in her break at 3:30 and stayed until 6. She says she really thinks she should not have bothered coming because I am 'snappy'. So snappy in fact that my deckchair almost caught fire. Fortunately she found it funny. I saw nothing funny. I'm always grumpy when unwell. I sat gasping like an asthmatic pug, drowning to the sound of Tony Blackburn  from the depths of my transistor radio.

Mum and Dad went to Giovanni's until 12:30 leaving me watching TV. Saw the end of the French saga about Molière. Bed late.

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