Shrove Tuesday. New Moon
On the bus this morning the piped music [which they play to the occupants of the upper deck] went berserk and the song stuck on repeat for one sentence for the duration of the journey. It had a disturbing effect on my fellow passengers. Old ladies got off the bus at Stanningley clinging to each other like automatons. A leather clad man, with violet hair, his jacket covered in pins and paint, got off the bus shouting, and looking for someone to mug. Eventually the repetetive noise so upset the Bengal bus driver that he abandoned the vehicle on Armley Road and sent for another one.
At the YP I tore newspaper to shreds for 8 hours. Went to see Susie [no change]. A family gathering around the bed with Frances snatching the limelight.
Home at 5:30 to pancakes. A stodgy tea. I have a letter from Downing Street from a B.A. Cross. It reads: 'Dear Mr Rhodes, The Prime Minister has asked me to thank you for your recent letter setting out your views. They have been noted.' Obviously a standard answer to the 48 million letters that the PM receives on a daily basis. At least I've written and got it off my chest.
Mum and Dad came at 8 for a few drinks. Dad went up to the bathroom and mended a temperamental light switch. Watched TV. Roy Plomley talking about his 'Desert Island Discs' now in its 40th year. They left at 11.
-=-
No comments:
Post a Comment