Dreamed of visiting our cottage near Sackville, N.B., and finding some old books there, including some of Enid Blyton's Noddy books; playing "Country Gardens" on a piano with the damper pedal down for resonance; visiting the tomb of advice columnist Ann Landers, with the sarcophagus in the form of a porch swing that could be rocked back and forth. [She actually gave her body to science, I think.]
Went to Paramount Travel and arranged to fly to London in March.
Baked multigrain bread.
Went shopping.
Started Freddy the Detective. Another clever book.
Dinner was shepherd's pie.
There were only four people at Creative Writing! The teacher seems to admire my stories. For next week, I think I'll write a story about a French Foreign Legionnaire lost in the desert.
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