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I disapprove of drunkenness in all its forms.

(Lucy says there aren't any 'forms' - just degrees. Well, I don't approve of them either.)

And the drunkenness I disapprove of most is when chauffeurs disappear in a crisis, later to be found (carousing) in Plutonian bars.

Worthing says there is no alcohol on Pluto. But he (the chauffeur) was holding a glass, looked drunk, was shouting a lot and fell off his chair when he saw us and -

Worthing says . . .

But never mind what Worthing says.

He can fly a spaceship. (Which was what mattered.)

* * * * *
We're back.
Well. Two of us are.

Me and Worthing.

* * * * *

It's Sunday.

Tomorrow it's Bank Holiday.

On Tuesday, when the shops are open and railway engineers have finished doing whatever they do to railway lines on bank holidays - and when everything's back to its everyday normal - I'll track down Didcott and ask his advice. The Martian guards on the bus might even be able to help.

And Worthing thinks I should easily be able to tell which guards are Martian - simply by eliminating any who aren't.
(The British guards all support football teams and Plutonians have blue skins.)

I don't like the word.

'Elimination'.

It sounds 'ominous'.

('Ominous', though, is a good word - sort of round.)

But not all humans like football - I say.

And they go bluish in the cold (humans).

And what if extra-terrestrials pretend to like sport - when they don't?

But Worthing replies (in a funny voice) - that no-one's going to call him an 'extra-terrestrial' and get away with it. It's too 'twentieth century'.

(Sometimes I don't like him.)

Then he says, "You don't know anything."

Which, I suppose, is true.

* * * * *

Thank you everyone who contacted Sam about the milk.

This was efficient and helpful. The downside was that I would have liked tea when I came home - but couldn't. (Have any.)

Lucy was out, so I knocked on Mrs Rustbridger's door to ask if she'd give me some till Tuesday.

She's terribly concerned about Sam. He keeps asking if anyone has seen a cougar.

Tomorrow, I'll write some notes about the flora of Pluto (while I remember).

Tuesday, I'll organise a double rescue mission for Ming and Didcott.

(It's about time I took matters into my own hands.)

Wednesday - oh, I don't know about Wednesday; gardening I suppose. I'll see.

_____

For Tomorrow