_. A deluge. Rain from dawn until dusk. Out into a grey, Bradford morning brandishing my umbrella.
At the office Sarah left early. She's ill. Busy morning. At lunchtime I strolled into town beneath my rain shielding implement. Spent some time in a book shop speed reading Anthony Holden's 'Their Royal Highnesses', the story of the romance between the P of W and Lady Diana Spencer. Back at the office I penned a pathetic letter to Ally, the first since our nuptials.
Phoned Ally twice and Mummy once. Poor Mum sounded dismal. More people have looked at Pine Tops, and always seem thrilled with the place, but go away and afterwards - silence. So frustrating. Nothing runs smoothly in these toilsome times.
Ally met me at the station at 5:30 and we went up to Morrison's for another minor shopping spree. The place was seeithing with cretinous hags with over-ladened trollies. Dave L joined us 8:15 until 10. We discussed pianos. He wants to buy his Mum a second hand piano at Yuletide. Ally can of course play one, but she knows nothing about the instrument. We drank lager and lime, and wine. Dave quite amazed by the vast number of wedding/honeymoon photographs.
Graham Dixon phoned. Bed 12.
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