Monday
Everyone in a panic about our Greek taverna line. Am starting to wish I never mentioned it. DD keeps ringing up to tell Gids about big game hunting. ‘I know, I know,’ I told him. ‘You’d better be sure you kill with the first shot, etc.’ Sometimes the old ones are the best. Sometimes, however, they are just tedious. To make matters worse, we’re run off our feet because Nigel is being rested. It was the only compassionate option after he went funny at conference and rampaged around the press room screaming obscenities at journalists, which even Gary said was taking media management a bit too far. So he’s on GWB leave, pending a full assessment by Sherwood, our lifestyle guru — who’s just done a course in ‘Mid-Term Paranoia as Exhibited by Opposition Spin Doctors’. What good timing is that!
Tuesday
Strange dreams last night about the Lord of Darkness. He was wearing a cloak and had fangs like Dracula. He swept through my bedroom window, bit me on the neck, stole my piggy bank then galloped away on Sesame. Things not much better when I woke up. Daddy moaning about his HBOS shares over breakfast and talking with a not v nice look on his face about the cost of horse feed again. Tried to go for an early morning ride but it was hopeless. The pheasant situation is totally out of control. No one coming from the City to shoot, so the darn things are running amok. Can barely ride in a straight line for them flying out of hedges and making poor Sesame bolt!
This is a v worrying effect of the banking crisis which I haven’t seen any coverage of in the papers.
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