Busy Spring-like morn. Splashing in the bath I told Ally that we should go to Colne to pick the brains of her aged aunts for stories of her lineage. Auntie Annie must be a hive of information.
Anther breakfast waiting for the post, which didn't materialise before our departure.
Steve O'Connor's secretary dashed down the garden path and and posted his specification for our new roof. £850 for the lot and that's going cheap.
The bus was flooded with light and I scowled all the way to Leeds. YP its usual cheerful self. I was honoured to be received in audience by Mr W.J. Austin-Clarke this afternoon and he told me details of my severance payment. He was sat peeping over his desk like a garden gnome with tiny black eyes, like buttons. I would receive £4,782. No golden handshake by any means, but not to be sneezed at. It was the only time I have spoken to Mr A-C since my interview in 1973.
Ally made omelette and salad and we sat talking about redundancy and pubs. We are held in agonising suspense and everything is in the hands of Mr Sutcliffe at Viking Taverns.
News: Her Majesty is going to have to do something about the Press. The Sun newspaper has been prevented by the High Court from publishing something this morning - the so called confessions of a palace servant. Todays article was to be 'What Di said to me about her strapless dress'. _________.
Ally sat on the floor going through her old cheque books stubs settling our accounts and working out just what we don't have. She's seen a few nice things in 'Cheap 'n Cheerful' and wants to know how much we have in our large whisky bottle. On the last count in September we had £40.
An evening of tranquil repose. Married life is perfect. It could really catch on if only people tried it. Read Pepys and adjourned to bed.
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