May Day.
Slept soundly and got up full of beans because my cheque for £10 arrived from the beloved Post Office. If you can recall, Bessie posted my card on April 1, addressed to 'Ashe Tree Cottage, 5 Lidget Green, Bradford'. The sleuths at the PO have finally traced me and at 10:30 we set out gleefully to 'spend, spend spend'. First to the Co-op and then to town where I bought a pair of pump-like shoes called Turbos. I now look like a combination of Shakin' Stevens and the Woman in White. I bought Ally a blouse ~ a present from my 'Princess Felicitas of Prussia' article for Jonathan Margolis at the Mail. Bought three LPs. Eric Clapton, Remain in Light by Talking Heads, and a 1978 Bee Gees. Walked around town feeling like Sir Charles Clore [when he was alive that is].
Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones is eighteen. Why not marry her off to Viscount Althorp or the Marquess of Milford Haven?
Mum phoned. Karen isn't pregnant after all. Her doctor has changed his mind. The poor girl is in hysterics.
Sat by the TV watching the war. We bombed Port Stanley airfield today, and suffered no losses. The bulletins kept us rivetted. Our generation has never experienced such drama.
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