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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

24 Jan 2004 Discipline in Waitrose
Took tea in the Waitrose coffee shop while Mrs. Monk checked out labels on groceries.
On the table behind me a party of four arrived. Middle class mother and father, and two beautiful girls, one age maybe two (could just about walk), and a sweet little sister, maybe four years old.
Most of what happened, was behind my back. One voice, the father, dominated what was said. He chastised the kids as soon as they sat down. "I WONT TELL YOU AGAIN, STOP SHOUTING"
Not only was he raising his voice but he did so with a supercilious tone that I found most annoying. He went on scolding the children in this manner for some time, and I was finding it hard to concentrate on my newspaper. Eventually, the inevitable. The two year old starting crying uncontrollably.
I put down my paper and poured another cup of Earl Grey.
Both parents tried everything to stop the baby crying: reasoning was the father's futile tactic, hugging and rocking, by the mother.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the father had his head in his hands.
As I went back to my paper, I heard the father say gently, "If you finish up your lunch, we might just give you a very special treat...."
The crying subsided and faded away slowly to a whimper and then eventually..... silence.
The four year old girl broke the silence with the sweetest little voice....She said, "What kind of very special treat........"
"AM I TALKING TO YOU? HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO EMILY" Guess who raised his voice once more. And then some more, and then some more.
Eventually Mrs. Monk joined me at my table. I passed her a cup of Earl Grey and whispered, "That guy's an Arsehole".
She said, "I know, ......he could be a teacher".

25 Jan 2004 Sunday
Armani
London Day trip. Ran into Mike and Karen at the Armani exhibition. Karen was really into the Armani when Mrs. Monk surprised her. Mrs. Monk is so not into Armani. Mike was a detached onlooker when we first observed him. He had to move occasionally to avoid being confused with the mannequins. (His joke, but he was strangely Armani-like, dressed in bible-black and collar-less). I thought the show was pretty good, but a bit swanky for my taste. Mrs. Monk, of course wanted to know how much a dress like that would cost. "An arm and leg," I said, "Thus the symbolism of the armless, legless, and indeed headless, mannequins".

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