3rd Sunday in Advent
Ally and I slept in John's bed, and he slept on his ghastly settee. We were awakened at 12 by Lynn and Dave with Frances, and a roll of carpet. I got up to vomit. Ally (so cruel) laughing in her bed at the sounds of me heaving and David banging around laying the carpet. All too much for me.
Eggs, bacon, sausages, then we left left John's building site of a flat to go to West End Terrace, now the Nason/Rhodes residence. The poor people are all sitting round, almost on top of each other, but seem happy. Christopher was everywhere. I don't think I could cope with him. I'd go mad. John brought us home at 5, and we dug up the Christmas tree in the garden and erected it by the fireside. Ours is such a romantic, cosy house. The epitome of Yuletide. Fish pie and carrots.
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