Moorhouse Inn
Dad is coming on Sunday to begin painting the cellar. Unfortunate, because I feel shocking. I am wrapped in a pullover shivering like buggery. Undoubtedly, an attack of 'flu. At the bar tonight I sat drinking brandy and port which warmed me a good deal, but did little else. I really should have been in bed but you know how Ally disapproves of illness. She had to suffer on Wednesday, and so I have to suffer today. I phoned Jacq Sate and also spoke to Ian. I asked them if they could babysit on the night of Diane and Paul's wedding which they readily agreed to do. I joked and said I would leave them some milk and digestive biscuits. Poor Sammy. I do not think he will wake up. You see, he's never met Jacq and it would be disconcerting for him to wake up and be confronted by a strange lady watching Daddy's TV.
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Moorhouse Inn 2nd Sunday in Lent with dear Phyllis. Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of ...
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