This is a fragment of diary, only two days, and the first since 1 October 1970. It was entered on 25 March 2017. Items in
italics, like this, were added during this time.
And so back to keeping a diary, at least temporarily, after nearly a year of abstinence.
Maybe sometime I shall go into detail about what happened in that year, and how the
situation in which I find myself now developed. I may not be the only one - as I write this
I find that the pilot of the plane on which I am is Captain Hadden - is his presence
here due to some of the same causes that mine is?
It's difficult to remember what kind of superstition this reflects. I assume that he
was the father of Mike Hadden.
Up very early, thinking I would have a hell of a lot to do, and then realised that I had
not. Back to bed, both of us up again round 1000 and shortly
after Sue's mother rang up and said that
Kennedy Gregory (female; I would expect male and the name the other way round) was coming
out at 1045, and would be there first. Over, got a check list and £6
for Sue, then home to tie up final odds and
ends. Off then into town, and picked up Dad's printout.
Perfect except (not
an algol reserved instruction) MAXTIM is
now 60 seconds, and I had used 63 and needed 70 left. To the bank, and changed my account
to a joint one in Sue's and my names. Then had
lunch at the Ship and took Sue to the station,
trouble with my cheque because they can't tell the difference between Ø and 0. Took the car
down to Dunn's, lift back with Mr. Donald, and eventually
to London, where we were met by Dad and
stayed long enough to pick up his barang and witness a superb example of racial prejudice
amongst the porters
at Victoria station.
To Crawley, more fun with the station
master - I love
British Rail - and then to
the Grange Hotel. Had makan, then arrived the Shipley's, drank at length, and finally to
bed, none too early in view of what lay ahead.
Up at 0700 as planned, and got things sorted out at record speed; taken by DS taxi
to Gatwick, to Dad's great
impression; like me he is having second thoughts about
the GS, although the DS seemed less
comfortable than I remembered it. At Gatwick, chaos, culminating in the information that
the plane had been delayed 22 hours, and we were going
to Brighton. Checked in our baggage,
and to Brighton with only our hand baggage; further chaos and got eventually a room
for Sue (read Dad), for which I had to pay in
advance; then to makan, not bad but insufficient, and back to the pub to try and make some
phone calls to find a swivelling rear brake pipe for Dad's ID; service at switchboard proved less
than efficient (“are you from Charter flight? I'm afraid you will have to go to the call
box”. Got through on Sue's payment (and so I
should have for £5), and eventually found a pipe for £6, more than Dad could afford. Slept
much of the afternoon, and they talking to Dad, who suddenly realised that, from what we
told Bev, she must think I'm coming
back [to Australia] permanently.
Tried to get the phone number of UWE, not helped by the obstructiveness of the switchboard
operator. Down to complain to the manager, who told me that everything had to be paid for
in advance, and eventually agreed to get them to find out the number for me; but heard no
more of that.
To a fish and chip place for makan, and then I to the pub for the free
allocation, Sue waiting without. Spoke to an
Australian bag rather reminiscent of Mum as she might be in 5/10 years time. Home (to pub)
to watch the TV of Apollo 15, very
good, then to bed as early as possible.
