Monday April 4, 1983

 Bank Holiday in the UK (Except Scotland)

Up early and wallowed 'neath a soapy fermament. It is Uncle Peter's birthday. He is 54.

Sue and Peter came at 10 with a bruised and battered Christopher, looking like a survivor from HMS Galahad. He had fallen whilst attacking the neighbour's cat. We motored up to Horton. With Mama and Papa for 11:30. Papa looks ten years younger and both are loving every minute of life at Waltergarth. They gave Christopher lunch and we went to the Crown with Karen & Steve. We had a fiasco over a missing cornish pasty. The bar staff were agitated and accused us of eating one pasty too many. The place was swarming with Japanese hikers. Afterwards Dad decided to take us on a stroll across a plouged field and I fell, measuring my length in the sheep turds. Poor Christopher, clinging hold of his pushchair hand rail, with white knuckles and bilging eyes as we hauled him over the drystone walls. We returned to Waltergarth looking like Turkish mud wrestlers. Wine, women and song this evening. Watched Dudley Moore's 'Ten', boring. Steve snored in the chair. Joined by John from Scotland looking well. Sue and Pete went off at dusk and Karen said they would drop us off , but the time ticked by and we wended up staying another night. I was hideously pissed.

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