Done & Dusted

After briefing Francesca, a designer, by phone my freelance work for the year was done and dusted.  I busied myself with minor domestic chores, and making mistakes of one sort or another, discovering I had sent cards in the wrong envelops being one.

Sonya came and I gave her a card and some extra money. She thought a present that happened to be sitting near the card was hers too, and I had to embarrassingly admit it wasn't, and she explained that the last people she saw her weighed her down with presents. Felt like a cheapskate after this. Especially as my card misspelled her name Sonia too.

Freed from work, I spent much of the day listening to Seasons in the Sun by Dominic Sandbrook. Much of British political history in the 20th century seems a shambolic mess, and this is a really quite gripping tale. I am now reading about how the Unions forced down Callaghan's Labour government in the first wintry months of 1979 ('the winter of discontent'), unwittingly ushering in Thatcher who promptly set about crushing them. They seemed to have asked for it.

Betty out and about with some of her chums, Lorraine home eventually and is working from home tomorrow.    A happy, if tired, end to the day.

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