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Mrs. Monk's Would-be Diary, should have been written by Mrs. Monk, since she is the "Writer" in the family.
However, since she is a writer only in the conceptual sense, I have undertaken to fill these pages on her behalf.
If not by her, these pages will certainly be about her, and other important matters of the day

Leslie Monk, the long suffering.
 

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C H R O N I C L E

Mrs Monk’s

Would-Be Diary

Airline Travel                   25 DEC 2005

Economy seats on British Airways have achieved what I thought was impossible, they have actually declined yet further in comfort and service, while simultaneously becoming more costly. Mrs monk bagged the aisle seat and I was therefore destined to be crushed between herself and the stranger on my right who took the joint armrest for himself and spread out his thighs with no shame of contact with mine. The seat in front of Mrs Monk had collapsed which did not seem to bother the occupant who had the inclined seat position at all times including take off . This was ignored by the stewards during the take off but also when dinner was served. Consequently, Mrs Monk had a restricted view of her meal since it was hidden by the over hanging seat. This was probably for the best because it looked and indeed tasted unfit for human consumption. The stewards appeared twice to serve dinner and coffee and then a boxed snack of rubberised bread and ham sandwich with tea.

On a visit to the loo, I discovered the hide away for the stewards where they lounged away the journey with enough space to put their feet up. It was Christmas day.

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The Ball Game,          Miami 26 DEC 2005

The Hilton at Miami Airport is where we stayed on day one of the Sunshine Holiday, after the nine hour flight from London.

The Desk clerks were surprised that Mrs Monk had acquired a Hilton Gold Card, since we had never stayed at the Hilton before. Reluctantly they were obliged to provide us with a number of privileges never before encountered by the Monks. Viz: upgrade to an executive suite with elegant bedding, Access to an Executive Lounge where we could enjoy complimentary executive snacks with a panoramic view of Miami and the Airport, and a complimentary breakfast.

We elected to avoid the Hotel Restaurant and dine in the Hilton bar that night ordering hamburgers and beer to fight of the jet lag. We noticed that passers-by were drawn to the bar by way of an American Football game on the TV, set high up above the bar. An animated enthusiast hurried in from the pool area wearing not much more than a bathrobe. This seemed inappropriate attire even for the less formal area of the bar, but he was not at all embarrassed to be there and he perched himself onto a bar stool, kicked off his flip flops, and stared up at the TV as if his life depended upon it.

We watched as he involved nearby watchers of the game and extolled opinion, animated and excited, he told anyone that would listen and even some that wouldn't, about the last game he saw last week and the extraordinary outcome, and how it just had to be seen to be believed. Peopled smiled and enjoyed his strange excitable behaviour, but as the evening diners mingled in their finery in the bar overflowing from the lobby and the restaurant, they all wondered about this strange little stout man in his bathrobe.

One woman was heard to say that he needs a “reality check”

Mrs Monk leaped to his defence, claiming that the world would be a better place if there were more people like him. (I have known Mrs Monk to enter a convenience store in her night-gown)

The next day we had our breakfast in the hotel restaurant. We helped ourselves to the impressive buffet: bacon eggs, sausage potatoes, fresh fruit, juice and coffee. We then met Joseph our waiter, who explained that what we had eaten, was not the complimentary breakfast that we were offered.

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Joseph tells us that we have to pay for our breakfast, and Mrs Monk captures the moment

More Pictures like theses can be found here PHOTOGRAPHY

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