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Tuesday October 18, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Alison has taken to giggling hopelessly and helplessly like I've never heard or seen before. It must be a combination of the pregnancy and this mad house. So charming to see her throbbing on top of the bed like a hippopotamus. Our cheerfulness was quashed by Fran O'Brien this afternoon who, having heard of our stock result, phoned and asked us what we are going to do about it. I told him we'd give the staff the hard word and this evening as they arrived Ally took them aside and gave each one a verbal warning. Margaret MacMahon flew into a temper, Brenda Brook appeared baffled and expressed sorrow to us, and Christine Potton was her usual blank self. I'm trying to work out which one Agatha Christie would make the villain. Ally always good in these instances. Later I brawled with a drunken Irishman who tried to floor me, unsuccessfully.

# Brenda, Chris and Margaret - verbal warnings.

-=-

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Saturday May 19, 1984

A warm, gentle day. Ally and I took off to town with Samuel at 1pm. We didn't take the pram and I carried baby for two hours, by the end...