Dear Diary ... continued

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For my money it's just too big, too political and too commercialised and I'd like to see something done about it before it's too late.  The best suggestion I've heard so far is for the building of a permanent Olympic site back in its own home country of Greece.  The Games could then be held every year, but on a much reduced scale and a lot less flag waving and ceremony.  To be honest, I can't wait to see it.
 
Wednesday ...
Hugh is naturally uppermost in my mind at the moment.  I felt the moment I saw him that all wasn't well and although he won't say anything, I strongly suspect he's had another heart attack.  That would probably account for the surprising arrival of his son, Anthony.  I'll get to the bottom of it eventually but meanwhile Anthony seems to be causing a few problems of his own.  I can see David getting more and more unhappy at Hugh involving his son in the running of Crossroads and although I suspect I have a fair idea of the game Hugh is playing, it's something I'd rather not think about.  Still, I have to admit that I hardly recognise Anthony as the young lad of sixteen I saw last ... he's grown up with a vengeance!
 
Jeff Gilbert is not that happy with Anthony's appearance either.  He confessed to me some time ago that he had his eye on Stephanie and although her response to him has never been much more than luke-warm, his chances seem to have taken a real nose-dive with Anthony's arrival.  No one, least of all Stephanie, would deny that Hugh's son is attractive and sophisticated and the sight of the two of them waltzing the night away in the Motel wine-cellar I would imagine did little to gladden the heart of poor Jeff.
 
Thursday ...
Glenda Brownlow is the latest problem to arrive on the Crossroads doorstep.  Sandy discovered our pennyless 'dancer' to be an under-age girl on the run from her family.  I must say from what she was saying about her home life it sounds as though she's got plenty to be upset about.  Jane, our little angel of mercy, tried her best to offer friendship and support (with little help, it seems, from Mrs Witton) but all to no avail.  Glenda, hearing that her parents had found out where she was and were on the way, disappeared like a shadow in the night.  I hope she's alright ... from what I read in the papers, the number of children running away from home is increasing all the time and there are now more kids sleeping rough than ever before.  Of course, it doesn't need me to point out the dangers involved and I was pleased to read the other day about a new approach to the problem.
 
At some of the bigger railway stations around the country and in particular in London, there are to be advice centres whose job it will be to ensure that anyone approaching them will at least have somewhere safe to sleep for the night.  Whether or not a run-away would actually use this type of facility is of course something else.  
  

Dear Diary ... continued