Ally stayed in bed until lunchtime with Wilkie Collins not daring to move. Steve O'Connor went up onto the roof throwing the stones down upon the daffodils. Ally emerged at lunchtime and we had tomato soup (again) and sandwiches. We sat looking at our finances this afternoon and drinking oceans of tea. When should she see a doctor? We are quite ignorant on this topic. It's like living in a goldfish bowl with the roofing chaps peering in on us. Eventually Ally sat with her back to the window, booked pressed against her nose. I kept carrying pots of tea outside for the grateful roofers who had had a shandy over at the Second West. Thirsty work.
We debate about what to do for the remainder of the week. Should she phone Derek? Phoned Susan to wish her luck at hospital tomorrow. Christopher's operation takes place on Friday.
Coronation Street, Dallas and the news. I went to bed with The Three Musketeers. The night was warm and the bedrooom hot, like the hot house at Kew.
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