This particular Friday, October 29th-was no exception to the rule-

Mrs Swettenham, pushing back the pretty little grey curls from her forehead, openedThe Times, looked with a lacklustre eye at the left-hand centre page, decided that, as usual, if therewas any exciting newsThe Times had succeeded in camouflaging it in an impeccable manner; took a look at the Births, Marriages and Deaths, particularly the latter; then, her duty done, she put asideThe Times and eagerly seized theChipping Cleghorn Gazette.

When her son Edmund entered the room a moment later, she was already deep in the Personal Column.

‘Good morning, dear,’ said Mrs Swettenham. ‘The Smedleys are selling their Daimler. 1935-that’s rather a long time ago, isn’t it?’

Her son grunted, poured himself out a cup of coffee, helped himself to a couple of kippers, sat down at the table and opened theDaily Worker which he propped up against the toast rack.

‘Bull mastiff puppies,’ read out Mrs Swettenham. ‘I really don’t know how people manage to feed big dogs nowadays-I reallydon’t…H’m, Selina Lawrence is advertising for a cook again. I could tell her it’s just a waste of time advertising in these days. She hasn’t put her address, only a box number-that’squite fatal -I could have told her so-servants simply insist on knowing where they are going. They like a good address…False teeth-I can’t think why false teeth are so popular.Best prices paid…Beautiful bulbs. Our special selection. They sound rather cheap…Here’s a girl wants an “Interesting post-Would travel.” I dare say! Who wouldn’t?…Dachshunds…I’ve never really cared for dachshunds myself-I don’t mean because they’reGerman, because we’ve got over all that-I just don’t care for them, that’s all.-Yes, Mrs Finch?’

The door had opened to admit the head and torso of a grim-looking female in an aged velvet beret.