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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

 13 Sept 2004 Mean Streets
Mrs. Monk and I made our way to our car parked, some way from the house toward the houses in multiple occupation, bed-sits and small rented flats, the mean streets. It was Saturday night.
Our path was blocked by three police cars one of which arrived in a hurry before our very eyes.
A young lady in an Essex Girl Dinner party outfit, leant out of her window and peered in the direction of the rumble. She told us about a man running about with a big stick. Mrs. Monk took the opportunity to chat to her about her cat. In due course a man was being led down the street unceremoniously by three policeman. He did not go quietly.
Mrs. monk started to panic as the man was led in our direction. I took arm and led her by a circuitous route toward our car. She came quietly, for once.
Having passed the action we stopped to talked to another girl leaning out of the house from which the man with stick had been escorted.
"Be glad you don't live here", she said fearfully. "They are at it all the time"
The man with the big stick had got us talking to two of our neighbours for the first time.

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