Monday June 26, 1978

Christine phoned and we arranged to go out on Thursday evening. She has definitely set her heart on clearing off to Jersey next year to work in a bar. God knows how life will be without her bringing devastation and chaos to it. I must write to her soon because our correspondence is of vital historical importance. Since 1973 she's sent me over 70 witty, wonderful letters all of which I have stored away. One day we'll be bandied about in English Literature classes and on 'O' Level syllabuses with the likes of John Donne and E.M. Forster.

An Ode to Christine

You have for five years been a source of great joy,
You bring warmth to my heart which none can destroy.

Your virtues are many,
Your faults are quite rare,
But I'd never tell you,
I don't think I'd dare.

It's a pleasure to see you,
Of this I am sure,
My heart beats like fury,
I know of no Cure.

So, off to Jersey and see if I care,
I'd like to come with you,
But I don't have the fare.

M.L.R.

Monday September 1, 1975

The first of September. I cannot decide if the year's gone really quickly or not. _____.

Lynn passed two more 'O' levels today, so now she's got seven 'O' levels. I have four, and Sue has two.______.

See in one of the cheaper Sunday papers that the fiend who's been pestering Princess Anne over the past weeks actually never heard the princess on the phone or has uttered a word to anyone at Oak Grove House. He was dismissed from his Post Office job for eaves-dropping. I think it is only right and proper under the circumstances. __________.

Oh, by the way. On Friday I wrote a lengthy letter to 'George' under the pretence that it was from Lord Macdonald of Sleat, Chief of the Macdonald clan. She rang at 6.30 to talk about it. Her Mum's been in hysterics all day about it and she's still laughing herself under the table now. Judith Rushworth may well be right when she says I should write a novel. Harold Pinter may be able to knock off Lady Antonia Fraser, but I bet I can write much better than he can.

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