The Lada goes away. We are carless once again. To the YP. Slept soundly on the bus to Leeds. Felt even worse than I did yesterday. The phlegm is no better, and am coughing it up thick and green throughout the day. Hideous.
Sarah's taken the rest of the week off to nurse Delia who is very ill with influenza. She hasn't seen daylight since Christmas Eve.
Geoff Hemingway is giving me some tip money for Christopher Ussher's engagement. He's a godson of Princess Mary, the Princess Royal.
News: a maniac is on the loose in West Yorkshire. He's raping and dumping women, tied hand and foot, into canals. Not nice.
Home to find enough Yorkshire puddings to feed and army. To bed at 9:30 with a gin and tonic. A pleasant change from cocoa.
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