I went to Clarkie`s funeral today. She was or helper in College Street for years. She celebrated her hundredth birthday in April, so it was not too sad an occasion. She was the worlds worst moaner but she was splendid too. She had high standards, believed in cooking good meat and vegetables, and brought us home made cakes. I sang all the hymns with gusto. And there was a delicious tea supplied by Waitrose. I had an interesting talk with the vicar who knew nothing about Quakers.
A very odd thing about my black eye which is even more lurid today, my sister has one too, and it appeared at the same time. What strange forces are at work?