Christmas week ends on a downbeat note. I've never been convinced that it was a good idea for F&F (that's Freddie and Fiona – the old boy has taken to using abbreviations in his diary, but then why shouldn't he?) to buy a weekend cottage in Rutland; they were always likely to upset the locals.
And as Lord Bonkers has often remarked of the Elves of Rockingham Forest, "you don't want to get on the wrong side of these fellows".
Sunday
Back to St Asquith’s – I ought to get a season ticket what? – and then, after sherry with the Revd Hughes, to the Bonkers Arms for a pre-lunch stiffener. I find the talk is all of Freddie and Fiona and what they were saying at my Christmas Day party. Word has got about that they were talking about “privatising health” and it has Not Gone Down Well – we happen to be very proud of our cottage hospital.
Worse than that, a garbled version of the story has reached Rockingham Forest in which they want to “privatise elf”, and you can just imagine how that was received by the local elves. So F&F would be well advised to lie low for a bit. As my old friend Violent BC might have put it, it would be a pity if anything happened to them.
