Bessie is 61 today. (She phoned last night and I had a good chat with her). Graham and Gill are supposed to be going to the rectory for the weekend.
Sunshine. Up after ten. Bright and cheerful. If Sam Smith's give us the push we'll go off on a residential course and get a diploma. We shall not be defeated. We are made of the stuff which sent Hitler packing. Vera Lynn and all that.
Boiled eggs. We book tickets on a fast bus to London and back (£25 for the both of us) and can now tell Lynn and Dave that we'll be at Winchester from June 11-19 and if they want to join us they can do so. Feeling bright and optimistic today. I was so proud of Ally yesterday. She interviews remarkably well and turns on the charm. People are always impressed by her independence and the way she returned to Yorkshire in '79 and bought a house. __________. We went to market but were driven home by the sights and smells which turned Ally's stomach. Walking through the fish market proved to be a test in self-control for poor Pig, and we had to walk hurriedly through the stalls of red, dripping meat. An arduous shopping excursion to be sure. We returned home and had strawberries and cream. We dined early on soup, trout (grilled), new potatoes, garden peas, and more strawberries and cream. Ally finds it hard to hold on until evening and has to eat to ward off feelings of nausea. She went to bed early missing 'Dynasty'. I stayed up late watching a '73 movie based on the life of John Dillinger, the gangster of the '30s. Seen it before, of course. I had seen every film ever made at least twice by 1976. Just imagine how bored I'll be by 2017? Crept stealthily to bed so not to disturb Ally but it is quite impossible.
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