I can take anything that Friday the Thirteenth might throw at me because things cannot get any worse than the bad luck I've been hammered with already in '85. At least the year has ended with very good news for us. Little Clementine Alice Nora Rhodes or George Tobias Albert Rhodes is on her/his way.
Two staff PM. Chris and Liz. I expected John and Janette but they didn't materialise. So at 10pm I phoned to ask if they were on their way. John answered casually. I asked: "where the Hell are you?" He replied "I'm sat here watching the telly. Why?" Blast. Janette had failed to inform John that we had arranged to meet tonight and I felt bruised to be let down. I could have kicked myself. _______. To bed threatening to spend Christmas '86 in the Canary Islands. Sod Santa Claus. Goodwill? Bah, Humbug.
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