Up at 6:44. Ally has back ache and sits with a poached egg looking pained. What are we going to do about bloody pubs? We have an interview with Sam Smiths at Tadcaster next Thursday. I phoned them to confirm we can attend and contacted a few estate agents for leaflets for small shops in the N Yorks area. We shall have to see.
Sue and Pete came at 5:30 with Christopher - a little peril who insisted on demolishing the bookcase. Sue has had a perm and looks well. We itch to say something but don't. Drank lager and wine. They left at 8. On arriving home Sue phoned to say John Sumpton was killed on his motorbike at the end of West End Terrace this evening. Peter had been out with him and the usual Thursday mob last night. I put the phone down and burst into tears. I knew him quite well too, but hadn't seen him since September last.
-=-
No comments:
Post a Comment