Still wet. We awoke in our little bunk at 6:30 and had the traditional hot bath. I concocted breakfast for Piglet, who came bustling in looking like a peach. ________. I must be a frightening sight leering over my boiled egg looking like some unwashed Dickens character.
At the YP. Told Bob Cockcroft that Lord Yarborough's daughter is engaged. Just think, it might be my very last tip. Went to buy a metro card at lunch and called on cousin Jill. I said: "I have news", and she squealed amidst the slingback shoes "Oh, Ally is pregnant!" No, it's not that exciting I assured her. I told her I am 'retiring' from the YP and she looked at me as though I am raving mad. Tim is working in London. I told her about the party and went off on my bedraggled way.
A chilli extravaganza. Ally is sick of the sniping and in-fighting at Chestnut House. The health service is now like El Salvador. Even Jean is sneaky. It looks like the meal we owe them isn't going to materialise. Ally, speaking very generally, loathes women. Coronation Street tremendously funny. Hilda Ogden should stand for parliament. Saw Dallas too. We are soap opera fanatics. Ally washed out, and we contemplated bed at 9pm.
News: the pound has fallen against the dollar to an all-time low. I have never been able to understand international finance. Tomorrow is Michael Foot's Waterloo - the Darlington by-election. Michael Foot is of course the horrid Mr Bonaparte. Did you know that the Belgian royal family descends from the 3rd Earl of Elgin & Ailesbury, a Jacobite? And, oh yes, poor Prince Claus. He's really flipped this time. Bed at 9:15.
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