23rd Sunday after Trinity - Remembrance Sunday - Birthday of the Prince of Wales
We were awake at 10 and lay debating whether or not to partake in another horizontal breakfast. I'm not a fan of eating in bed. The crumbs get everywhere, and I always splash tea, hot tea at that, onto my vulnerable, naked form. I made my usual morning visit to the bathroom and squealed with astonishment at the view I had of our modest garden. It was clothed in a blanket of snow. The first snow of this winter. Ally full of glee. She loves this hideous weather.
Watched the Cenotaph ceremonies on the BBC. Prince Andrew placed a wreath for the first time. For once Michael Foot wasn't dressed like an Irish navvy, which was disappointing. His donkey jacket brightened the remembrance service last year.
At 11:20 Uncle John phoned from Lanzarote asking us to take a consignment of packed bacon, good English bacon. It's the least we can do. It was a bad line. He and Sheila are meeting us at the airport at 2:30 on Thursday. Ally spent all afternoon ironing and packing. I stuffed a chicken and spiked it on the spit. Peeled veg and mixed Yorkshire pudding. Watched half of 'Moby Dick' and two thirds of a Sean Connery and Gina Lollobrigida epic. We dined on succulent bird at 5. Collapsed afterwards. 'Nicholas Nickleby' on Channel 4. Excellent.
Saw images of the dead Brezhnev on the news followed by the second part of the Royal Variety Performance. Felt for the poor Queen Mother having to endure it.
Bessie phoned and was miserable. Down in the dumps. (Her sister dying). Baby Matthew is to be christened on December 28, and big Tony Ellis is to be a godfather.
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