Wednesday July 3, 1974

Wake up at 9 still not feeling really fit and Mother rings the doctor in order that something can be done to bring back my apetite. Anyway, Kathleen will need a doctors note dated today, because one is only allowed 2 days sick leave without official notification from the local witch doctor. By lunchtime we still have no word from the fool, and so we settle down to a meal and have no desire to eat it. The doctor came at about 2.15 - a nice chap, Dr Jacques, and he diagnoses food poisoning. We can't go back to work until Monday and we have to take it easy. Hell, the bedroom stinks like a mortuary or something equally obnoxious - all visitors turn up their noses on entering the room. Poor Mum keeps trying to kill the reek of vomit with a perfumed spray but this fails to achieve anything.

See more World Cup soccer on tv in the evening. Who cares whether Bulgaria or Bratislava manages to qualify for the fifth round of this stupid tournament?

Ring Chris. He didn't know Andy and Linda had been struck down. He's going out tonight. Also ring Andy, who is in the bath, but Keith speaks to me whilst Andy wallows.

See a good play starring Celia Johnson - a very good actress - and the play had a good story which ended where you expected it to end and not slap bang in the middle of one of the scenes, like so many modern plays tend to do.

Oh, aren't I a bloody awful diarist? Who the Hell wants to know the mundane circumstances of everyday life in the nasty, boring mid-1970s.

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