Dearest Diary, Day fifteen:
Attempted to contact Cavendish at the
telephone. His man said he was 'indisposed'. Can't get a peep out of
the cove. No bottom, some fellows.
Made a snorter today: Churchill waxing
lyrical again at the Club, crying into his Moet about somewhere or
other by the name of Gallipoli. "Gully who? Gully Polly!"
I ejaculated, at just the right moment. Most amusing. What?
No comments:
Post a Comment