YP hideous. Some workmen have gone up to the mezzanine floor and painted it with a canary yellow/pink combination. The smell of the paint and the diabolical rush of colour has given me a throbbing head.
At lunch time I went to the building society and deposited the sum of £5. Ridiculous maybe, but the sum is building up. The woman on the counter always looks at me with contempt. Silly cow.
Ally phoned. She hasn't found a Denbyware egg cup for Lynn, and so we'll just give her money instead. I had my usual salmon sandwich on a bench in Park Square, but had to fight off the hungry pigeons.
Home to Ally, head throbbing on the bus all the way, reading the YP magazine account of the Lofthouse pit disaster of 1973. Hardly the sort of story to put in the rag when the miners are on strike killing old ladies and holding the nation to ransom. I'd like to put Arthur Scargill down a mineshaft and fill it in. Who wouldn't?
Ally in a dressing gown painting her nails. I took some pills and got in the bath. Recover somewhat. Watched the pathetic Christine Keeler on Nationwide regurgitating the Profumo Affair. She looks like someone you'd find behind a fish and chip shop counter in a Leeds backstreet.
Ally wearing a new blouse covered in tiny hearts. We had cheese and crackers and watched 'Crossroads' waiting for David B to come from his squash club, or wherever he goes on a Thursday evening. He came at 7:30 and drove us, puffing on a large cigar, to Guiseley. He is very serious these days. Lynn, pink, and breast feeding Katie, was watching the TV without sound so not to disturb Frances. We had a few glasses of sherry. David and I were despatched to the fish and chip shop and we called on John on the way. ________________.We ate at 9. The well stocked drinks cabinet was opened and Lynn gave us chocolate liqueuer, just to get ride of it. Bed there at 12.
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