Wednesday, April the 28th, 2004
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Several readers have written in to express concern about Mrs Gubbins, who has now been on the run from the police for some weeks. We have just received a few tatty pages, smuggled from her hideaway, apparently written by the octogenarian fugitive herself: Friday. Soup for breakfast. Duck with broken leg outside hut. I brought it inside and fashioned a splint with some hairpins and elastic bands. It is called Agamemnon. Saturday. My “minders” are a terrific bunch. They have taken to wearing ribbons in their filthy hair and chewing cheroots. This afternoon there was a short gun battle with some police officers. We won. Sunday. By happenstance, one of my gang is a priest, so we were able to celebrate Mass. For the sacrament, we used what was left of a stolen packet of croissants. A tin mug of duckpond water had to do instead of wine. Monday. I have been passing the time by reading a stash of old Dobson pamphlets. I was particularly taken with Two Hundred And Two Spurious Latin Names For Birds Together With A Meditation Upon A Sheet Of Corrugated Cardboard. I read it out to [X], one of the minders, and he has started to translate it into Tagalog. Tuesday. Peewits on roof.