Pouring with rain again. Mum lent me her umbrella, but it proved impossible to manage an umbrella and a bag containing three hundredweight of newspapers and still have a hand or two left to deliver a newspaper with, so I left the umbrella outside the chip shop and braved the elements.
No sign of the lady with orange hair. No sign of the churlish man at 143 Bywater Street.
All in all a successful morning. Got home soaked but ravenous. Mum made perfect egg and bacon for me. Even the tea was drinkable (Earl Grey, Mum said. It is now her favourite tea, apart from Church tea. It smelt of flowers, but at least it was hot and sweet. Obviously Mum is learning something at her Women’s Group.)
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