Sunday the Eighteenth
Olie and Terry seem convinced of the fact that Dinky-Dunk’s farming has been a success. We have saved all our wheat crop, and it’s a whopper. Terry, with his crazy Celtic enthusiasms, says that by next year they’ll be calling Dinky-Dunk the Wheat King of the West. Olga and Percy went buggy riding this afternoon. I wish I had some sort of scales to weight my Snoozerette. I know he’s doubled in the last three weeks.