It started to rain, and George and I took off our shirts while Harris donned a new yellow "rainy hat" and plastic mackintosh. He was very proud of his new hat, and asked if it suited him "It makes you look years younger, my dear," I said. "About six."

We passed a young couple on the path, the female half of which hailed Harris with obvious familiarity. He thought that she might be a secretary from the hospital (though I inclined to the theory that she was a barmaid) and I suggested that tomorrow she would be relating how Doctor 'Harris' now takes adult patients, and was seen exercising two of them.

 Extract from Sunday, 1st July, 1979: 

Harris found many examples of 'Heath Spotted Orchis'. He tried to count them, but gave up at ten as his boots take too long to remove. George had his usual run and is now so fit that he can no longer sublimate his libido by exercise, and has problems. Caspar also was unable to leave Vicky alone . . . .

 Extract from Sunday, 15th July, 1979: 

I was treated to a "Sing-along-a-Harris": the words were familiar, but the tunes were quite new to me.

 Extract from Sunday, 29th July, 1979: 

A very, very wet morning. Harris and Vicky and I set off early, and walked from Yarwell along the river bank to Elton, up the hill and along the bridleway to Highwayman's Way, returning via Old Sulehay.

The going in places was very slippery, especially up the hill at Ring Hawe, and when we returned home I was soaked to the skin with not a dry square centimetre on my body. Harris was also rather wet, and had to borrow one of my smocks, having carried his own all the way round the walk in his rucksack, which same being improperly fastened, did allow the ingress of rain.

Geordy Bill's headgear is worthy of note: Sombrero-like the leather turned guano-like in the rain.