Up at 7 completely recovered from my attack of dog-itis.
YP not up to much. Unspeakable in fact. Mrs Slocombe fancies herself as Margaret, Duchess of Argyll or maybe the Begum Aga Khan. It is nauseating to see her gliding around the building.
Home for 5:30. A marvellous letter awaits me from John Stokes, MP. It reads: 'Dear Mr Rhodes, thank you very much indeed for your magnificent letter. It is letters of support such as yours that make it so worthwhile to be in public life. With all good wishes, yours sincerely, John Stokes.' I am bowled over by Mr Stokes's letter. It's not as though he is being sycophantic to one of his constituents and was under no compulsion to be quite so nice.
A lamb concoction with stuffed peppers and tomatoes. Ally points out 'it is breast of lamb'. She is currently sitting buried behind The Times [yes, it's still with us] scrolling through the secretarial jobs in London. 'Look at this one', she exclaims, 'you get £7,000 a year, and a car.' Is she thinking of leaving me, perhaps? 'No. You are worth more than that', came the reply.
To bed not long after Coronation Street.
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