New scales too high, produce vertigo, hot flushes 3 (why? Menopause at least 10 years ago), fantasy grandchildren 0 (too noisy)

11.30 a.m. Everything is weaker these days. Even Alka-Seltzer not as strong as it used to be. Will just pop back to bed.

2.30 p.m. It’s all come back to me in ghastly clarity. Bridget came late and dressed for funeral as usual, in black (but skirt far too short for funeral. Why doesn’t she listen when I tell her to maximise her assets and hide her flaws, legs like tree trunks, not from my side of the family). And I told her about dreadful Mark Darcy and his divorce and what did she do but pin him down over a vol-au-vent when there was a perfectly good young doctor all alone on the other side of the room. Aargh, phone.

2.35 p.m. Mavis on phone. Apparently women can have hot flushes well into their seventies. Her mother had one at 93.

2.37 p.m. Phoned Una with hot flush query. She pretended to be too young for menopause. Hah! Then she said ‘never mind all that Pam, I’ve just returned from the travel agents and it’s booked! We’re going to Albufeira in February!’ Expressed astonishment that she could drag Geoffrey away from his easy chair. She did that annoying little laugh of hers (tinkle tinkle) and said ‘oh Pam, you’re so funny, this is just for us girls.’ Hung up and retrieved vague memory of promising to have holiday with Audrey Coles and Una. Will never touch sherry again. Phoned back and explained couldn’t go, as am devoted wife and potential grandmother.