My Diary

I had to take Poppy on a shorter walk than usual so cast some pre-decimal coins on the floor and then worked out a path around them – we may have missed a farthing but touched a King George VI half crown at least twice. After this I only had a short while to act out a play I had written in my sleep the night before; sadly I had to refuse an encore and the deus ex machina was replaced by a marmalade jar lid being suddenly rolled along the hallway floor, knocking me off my feet and waking the princess who ran out of the room decrying the Beeching cuts in the Nineteen Sixties – I remember the steam engine coming along and taking up the rails (I had gone off my own some time earlier). Later I visited the dentist: he called me sir whilst polishing the inside of my mouth with the fireman’s rag.


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