Wednesday August 19, 1981

 _. The YP is becoming intolerable. My job is slowly being phased out because Kathleen is convinced that I will soon be quitting. She thinks that within twelve months I'll be gone. Much of my routine is being done by the night staff. I spend most of the day reading the national newspapers and filing the interesting stuff, pondering over the troubles in the world. Keeping a watchful eye on the current state of emergency in Sri Lanka.How many people out there are mourning the loss of Jack Coia, the Scottish architect of Italian extraction? 

Black Hole:

Just what is the point in anything? We are led to believe, in a report in one of the papers, that the Universe will be catapulted into a Black Hole in 50 million years time, and when that happens what will it all have been about? Why did God go to all the trouble of creating Leonardo Da Vinci just to send everything he created into oblivion, along with Wren's St Paul's Cathedral, Alan Whicker and the Petit Trianon? Blimey, Michael. Go pour another coffee. Taking up another newspaper I see that that reporters have caught up with the Prince and Princess of Wales on Deeside, and both say married life is marvellous and highly recommended. I tend to agree with this sentiment.

Can I discuss Ally's face-pulling gurning ritual? Each morning my darling wife accompanies me to the door and kisses me goodbye, and then, when I look back over my shoulder, I see her face, pressed up against the little bottle-bottomed glass window in the door, hideously gurning, her face contorted in some horrific grimace. And with each passing day the facial postures grow steadily worse. I lay awake in the night, sweating, my mind racing: what horrific apparition will send me to my daily labours in the morning?

Home at 6. We had a peculiar quiche with some chips. It wasn't quite like Ally intended. Later, wallowed in the bath. Ally, wearing my pullover, doing the ironing. Afterwards we shared an orange and watched an American disaster movie. The characters in these films are always so vile you want them to die anyway, and so some of the suspense is diluted.

Are you bored of reading this? Gone are the days of spice and degeneracy. You heart no longer pounds at my tales of bawdy exploits. It's gone from depravity to homely regularity. Goodnight.

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