No letter from Sam Smiths which is a let down. An overcast day with only the occasional show from the sun. What a crap summer.
Neil Kinnock shouting his mouth off on the lunchtime news. Falklands, Falklands, Falklands. Stirring up the details of our fantastic victory of last year will only increase the Tory vote as far as I can see.
Ally phoned at 3. She wants a curry followed by a rice pudding. I shall of course give her what she wants. Ally moved to Guiseley from Winchester four years ago today. A historic day in the life of the author of this journal and for the Rhodes dynasty.
We refer to the baby as 'Tubby'. The large whisky bottle containing £70 in coins has always been the 'Clemmie Fund', not done particularly because we want a daughter. I have forgotten why this came about. I have no leanings for a child of any particular sex and will be very pleased with either male or female offspring. Nothing 'in between' please.
Ally came home cheerfully and we sat with the door and all the windows open. The evening warm and sticky. Ally has her sofa, and me the armchair. Saw the ancient Western 'Shane' starring Alan Ladd. Slobbering at the end. The small Irish person on the nine o'clock news discussed Mrs Thatcher's cabinet (the one she'll form on Friday) and Cecil Parkinson was suggested as the new foreign secretary and Norman Tebbit as Home secretary. I don't think Mrs T will discard Willie Whitelaw or Francis Pym just yet. We shall see.
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