Marita is 20 today. She'll be in Sheffield by now, but I made sure her card was in the post in good time. The poor girl hates the idea of being 20 - no longer the little teenager and all that. I suppose I will feel ancient too when the times comes (4 months yet).
A frantic, chaotic day at the YP. The Duke of Norfolk died in the night, and the phones haven't ceased ringing with queries about the new duke and Earl Marshal. I know everything about the 17th Duke of Norfolk off by heart now. Born in 1915, Miles Francis Fitzalan-Howard eldest son of the 3rd Baron Howard of Glossop and the 11th Baroness Beaumont. Married 1949, Anne Mary Theresa Constable Maxwell. 2 sons. 3 daughters. Residence: Carlton Towers near Goole. Heir: Edward Fitzalan-Howard who now becomes Earl of Arundel. Clever lad aren't I?
Carry on working through lunch and so Kathleen kicks me out at 4. Meet Lynn, Christine D, and Alison on the bus, and we are all home for just before 5. Lynn lodges a few complaints about the unimaginative meal awaiting us, and I go off upstairs to prepare for the usual Friday orgy.
To the Hare & Hounds as per usual with the regular mob. Chris and Christine don't come until nearly 10 o'clock and until then I rotate round the mob discussing all sorts of things. Give Chris £8 for the deposit for project Majorca, but he later gives me £5 back to see me through the week. Go to Wikis where nothing much takes place. I chat with Miss Dibb and have the occasional dance with 'CB', as I used to call her. John and I walk home arriving in at 2.30am. Eat piles of cheese and biscuits before hitting the sack.
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