Sunshine. Up with the larks. Made our pilgrimage to the market. Feel listless. I followed Ally around like a diabetic Doberman Pincher. Came back in the afternoon and watched the wrestling on TV. I cannot understand how people pay to watch. We had a lasagne. I shaved off my moustache and put on trendy clothes in an attempt to look 18. If Dave L can do it then so can I. Jill and Tim came at 8 and we went to the Woolpack at Rawdon where we met Karen, Steve, Di, and Paul. They are all slimming. On to Dave L's. Ally opened the door and a flying trifle flew past her nose missing it by inches and splattered on the kitchen wall. Breathtaking. Eight or nine youths were making merry pouring beer over each other. ______. A young man with flashed blond hair was romping with a pissed little girl who was swigging from half a bottle of whisky [presumably the other half was inside her]. MM and Marita arrived bringing with them some sanity. Jill went outside [after the fireworks display where I set fire to one of my shoes] and became horribly lost somewhere on Tennyson Street. Inside we were oblivious to her distress, and when she eventually found her way back she wept buckets. Jacq came with a girl called Lynne. I sat with my trousers rolled up to the knees quoting Shakespeare, much to the displeasure of Ally who found my behaviour trying. I fell into a bush and was lifted, bleeding, into the car. Horrid.
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