Sunday July 31, 1983

 9th Sunday after Trinity

    Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Margaret: buttocks.

Felt not too bad and went about my morning business quite unaided. Roy didn't surface until late. I went about the garden picking up debris from last night. Used contraceptives. Yes, you name it and I found it. 87p in coins scattered around the lawns. At 12 I was put in the vault (the back bar) - not my favourite place, and stood until 2 with the alcoholic OAPs. Marie's mother, the nymphomaniac Margaret, keeps coming in to molest me and drain the Diet Pils lager. She pulled a few pints and grabbed at my buttocks. She is 53 but has retained all her urges. The Barneses Sunday lunch smells divine. We had steak and switched on the TV, for the first time since our arrival here, and watched a noisy film Dunkirk. We switched off and slept until after 6. A moderate Sunday evening. Heavy rain deterred people using the garden. We had just one drink after closing and went up to bed but couldn't sleep. All the late night films are starring David Niven. His autobiography was ghastly and put me off the man.

-=-