Tuesday July 21, 1981

 Susie Nason, my baby sister and mother-to-be, is 22 today. I phoned her this evening. She and Pete are entertaining Lynn and Dave tonight.

I lay in bed, burning up. After Ally left for work I phoned the doctor. Ally took an early lunch and drove me to the surgery. The doc took one look and proclaimed: 'Ugh. Tonsilitis'. He told me to go home to bed for the week, and packed me off with enough medication to see me through until 2067.

Ally went out looking at washing machines. The day in nearing when Ally's smalls will be a spinnin' and a tumblin' in our little kitchen. She has survived without this 20th century invention since 1979.

Tomato soup for lunch. I sat reading Agatha Christie's 'Nemesis'. 'Sleeping Death', which I read in Ios was excellent. This isn't up to standard. My medication has had an immediate effect. My throat is relieved.

Mama remains in bed with her tummy problem.

News: The King of Spain is to boycott the royal wedding because the Prince of Wales and his bride are starting their honeymoon on Britannia sailing into Gibraltar. Stupid sod [The King of Spain that is].

-=-