Sunshine today. I don't think God has sent us a fine day since I 'retired'. I went marching off at 8 after Ally's departure and walked to the market. Spent £7 and walked home, heavily laden. Saw old Charles, with his wobbling dentures, at No. 12, who tells me he is 83, and almost 84. I say "so you are from last century" and he wandered off looking vague, trailing his shopping bag.
I racked six jars of wine and did my housework to the sound of the thumping stereo. The ash tree is about to bud, but the Christmas tree planted out is on it's last legs. Phoned Ally at 3 to discuss our evening meal. Pork chops. We have decided not to go out with Lynn & Dave B and the Allinsons on Saturday because a) we would have nowhere decent to sleep, and b) Ally doesn't feel like alcohol at the moment. _______. How can we avoid the evening without raising suspicions in Lynn? We are due to visit Horton too, but she doesn't fancy that either. She will be more settled once we know yeah or nay.
I am sitting in the sun by the window writing this watching the cars on Cemetery Road. _____. I have despatched our application form to Whitebread's. The silence from the breweries is horrid. We are left high and dry until something crops up with the added excitement of Ally's gynaecological situation. _____. When Ally came in we discussed the calendar for the next month and decide that perhaps tomorrow is our last chance to go to Horton before Christmas. I phoned Mama and told her we'd go tomorrow afternoon. Ally doesn't want to go far & doesn't want Mum adding two and two together. I attempted to phone the British Rail information desk for details of trains to Settle, and typically, got no reply. To bed after 10.
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