Dreamed of Father and I being about to leave London; selling off a black and white TV set we used to own; my going downstairs to a store full of refrigerated desserts to buy one; realizing that I'd left my glasses behind; a book of poems for children.
At the NDP campaign office I addressed some more envelopes and sorted through a big pile of call sheets, separating ones that had no phone address and ones that might be high priority.
Dinner was spaghetti.
The choir had their Christmas concert. The parents attended, but Moira was in Kingston again.
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