Warmer day, but still freezing though. We lingered in bed and only struggled out at 7:30 for our boiled eggs and toast.
Ally is sproggy, but feeling better than last night. She complains that she is permamently ill with one thing or another and I put it down to our circumstances. The after effects of marriage.
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| Rabbit pie? |
YP the same. Kathleen is going through another trauma. An aunt has collapsed and is near to death with an exploded duodenal ulcer, and to make matters worse, on Saturday she took her mother to the MFI warehouse to look at hideous modern furniture, and to take her mind off the sick aunt, only for the hapless mother to fall head long into a kitchen unit knocking herself insensible. Should both mother and aunt be called to that great formica warehouse in the sky it will be goodbye to Kathleen until at least October.
Phoned Susie at 1pm. She was lunching with Mum, Dad and Pete. She thanked me for the list of Christian names and she surprised me by saying she has drawn up a short list from it which will accompany her to Hyde Terrace. I had a word with Mum and she says the four of them will come for dinner on Friday. It will be the last time we see Sue at Club Street before her confinement.
News: the papers are empty and dull. Lord Poltimore is engaged. So too is the Hon Paul Chetwynd-Talbot, who sounds very much like an Evelyn Waugh character.
Home to a fried creation at 5:45. Whilst I was in the bath Mum phoned Ally and announced that Uncle Tony and Tim are to be made redundant. Poor Tony. Tim too, newly married, and now joining the ranks of the 47,000,000 unemployed.
Have I said that Ally is keeping a journal too? We are both writing furiously at this moment. How will they compare, I wonder?
We went up with our books again and snuggled down. Bliss.
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