Better day. Sunshine. Up at 7 o/'clock to a sunlit room to see Ally changing Clementine white of pallor and with sunken eyes. The broken nights are doing her no good. She was feeding at 1:10 and then again at 6. Poor Clemmie is sproggy and has a cough and matted eyes. Samuel and I had a fried repast and took our morning constitutional to the Co-op and the newsagents. The Daily Telegraph dominates with the coming sanctions against Pretoria which the PM has fought against for ages. Sir Geoffrey Howe doesn't seem to me to have any bottle whatsoever. The PM mut know what she is doing. Later, Samuel played in the garden hung, nay festooned, with washing. I joined him and sat on the wall with a copy of 'Moonfleet'. Sat baking like 'Fergie' (the ginger Tom from down the street). Mince for lunch, then peaches. Samuel has an excellent appetite. The midwife made her last visit and she looked bog eyed when I said: "see you next time". One never knows, does one. We had a card from Delia Collis in which she says our choice of names is beautiful.
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