_. To Ally's from the YP. We had a gigantic lasagne. A quiet, domestic evening 'at home'. These are the sort of nights I take great pleasure in. Living it up in some crowded tavern no longer has the hold or grip on me that it once did. I do however love parties. They will be in my blood forever.
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_. Rain again. Fog is expected. I spoke to Ally on the blower at 7:30am. She thinks she may be catching a cold and feels groggy. The poor thing cannot open her hot water bottle. I must have screwed the lid on too tightly. I felt very bad about this. She told me of the pathetic meatless stew she'd cooked for herself last night. Poverty lives, even in these times, I'm sorry to say. We keep talking as though we'll be better off financially after June, but I am unconvinced. I will always be a pauper. The word 'pauper' is stamped in indelible ink across my chart, or whatever it is that St Peter uses to keep our records on file. Perhaps they've now got a celestial micro-chip and a heavenly computer.
Ronald Reagan is still sitting and cracking jokes, and I remain sceptical. We could have a President Bush by August. However, the Press says he's on his way to a full recovery.
The Prince of Wales's security has been increased at the start of his tour of New Zealand. He looks a little lost without Lady Diana. It seems cruel that they should be parted at this special times of their lives.
I went swimming with Sarah at 12. Did fourteen lengths. Nearly twice as many as last week.
Home at 6. Papa was splashing cement on the back wall of the garage. Mum says she wants him to see a doctor about his blue leg, get a medical pension, and quit the police force!
Had a queer fish dinner, and took to water afterwards, my bath. Football on the TV. League Cup final.
Mum and Dad were very cheerful tonight. It's the police that spoils things.
Bed at 12 to escape the Academy Awards from Hollywood.
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_. Ally got up in one of her ratty moods and was gone. She looked exhausted and edgy. She was a bit of a monster. I thought I was going to get not only head bitten off, but a large section of my torso.
President Reagan is reported to be sitting up, taking notice, cracking jokes, but I'm not all that convinced he hasn't been assassinated. Who is to say he won't suffer a relapse in eight weeks? Bullet holes at his time of life cannot be very helpful.
A day of grind at the YP. I am increasingly coming to realise just how pointless it all is. Where can I go? What can I do? Surely there is more to life than cutting up newspapers?
Home at 6. Lamb for dinner. I mowed the lawns afterwards. Their first cut of the year. It might not be summer, but the cut grass made it smell like it.
Papa has discovered a very large varicose vein in his leg. I put it down to too much cycling. I asked to view the invasive, blue monstrosity, but received no showing.
I phoned Ally at 7:15. She's eaten watercress soup, and sounded much better.
Retired to bed at 12:24am.
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Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, &c Still dull outside. Who cares? Our alarm clock is on the blink and refuses to sound off. Samuel laid patiently...
