Sunday July 17, 1977

6th after Trinity. To Port d'Es Torrent, if that's how you spell it. Topless bathers on the rocks. The lovely smell of pine needles. I slept for most of the time.

Isn't it queer how we have strange dreams  while sleeping in the heat of the sun?

Sent a few postcards home but can't imagine them arriving there before I do.











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Sunday December 5, 1976

2nd in Advent. Have a nightmare and wake up having committed a murder! Don't know who the victim was and what were the motives, but I distinctly remember dropping a body from a bridge into the sea. Weird.

Climb out of bed at some ghastly hour and Lynne attempts to clean her car in freezing temperatures. You can imagine what happened. The whole bloody machine iced up and the sight of Lynne trying to remove frozen soap suds from the windscreen was amazing. She is so bloody willful though - I couldn't persuade her not to attempt this ridiculous exercise in the first place. To thaw out we go off to Pickering and have rum and oranges in the Royal Oak. Two or three drinks and Lynne is in Never Land. Incredible! Back to Ty-Onnen where she proceeds to clown around on the carpet like an imbecile. Mr Mather thought she had gone quite mad and he kept muttering, almost to himself, that he could not understand how I had put up with her for so long. He's a tremendous laugh and frequently says: 'Well, you're still sticking with her, Michael.'

Mr & Mrs Mather, Peter, Karl, Lynne and I watch TV all evening. 'Rising Damp' and then a Paul Newman epic based on the life of a ridiculous American boxer, Rocky Graziano. A name that sounds as though it belongs on a menu in a Italian restaurant. Drink a few whiskies and we all boil and sweat with the ridiculously hot central heating. Bed at 1.30.

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