NO LANGOUSTINES FOR THE VEAL
S U N D A Y, 1 0 D E C E M B E R
In the morning Daddy, Chump and me went to the Heath where we had a fab time sledging and skiing. I invented this fantastic way of going on the sledge: standing on it like on a chariot and holding onto the reins for dear life - like Boadicea! I did the royal wave and Chump and me nearly died of laughter. Walking back we saw two cars with skis on them; they’d probably been skiing on Box Hill.
It’s so sad, Emanuel has been found dead in the woods. The 15-year-old boy did do it. I should think his parents are as unhappy as Emanuel’s, knowing their son is a kidnapper and a murderer.
Washed hair, then Chump and me got down to the meal. We were in absolute chaos, as usual, which spoilt it a bit. The meal tasted quite good in the end, but it wasn’t quite right so I felt a bit miserable. We didn’t have any langoustines for the veal escalopes (had scampi instead) and we didn’t have any cream for the apple mousse à la Chantilly so we mixed it with an egg white. Even that I did wrong! I can’t do anything when I’m in a flap. The wine was Nuits St Georges.
Poor Mummy had the most ghastly back-ache today. But she helped me with my review on the Shakespeare sonnet and now it’s done. It's a marvellous weight off my mind.
In bed I thought about Dutronc; I went over every detail of the Porsche day. He was so nice. I remember one little incident when he laughed - when I kicked some snow down the mound and it just missed the people below!
Longing for the theatre tomorrow.