Dear Diary,

Mother came back from Washington, D.C. late this afternoon. She and Daddy couldn’t get reservations on the same plane, so Daddy’s coming tomorrow afternoon. Apparently they did find everything as crowded as Bob Hope relates every time he makes a visit to said metropolis. Mother said they slept in a room with no air-conditioning, only one window, and they paid six-fifty a day for it. She also said that there was no such thing as good service in a Washington restaurant. They have neither the time nor the patience.

Dear Diary,

Mother and Daddy left for Washington on the three o’clock plane this morning. I hope they don’t have as much trouble finding a room as Bob Hope said he found the last time he was there. He said, “I had a pretty good place to sleep last night, but they should have told me there was a point on top of the Washington Monument.” The time before that he said he had to sleep in the elevator—he said he felt like a yo-yo all night. (It’s a wonder he ever feels like anything but a yo-yo, the way he talks about them.)

Dear Diary,

I got eleven pictures of Bob Hope from “The Road to Morocco” today. From the pictures it looks as thought this one is going to be typical of all the other “Road” pictures—and that ain’t bad, that’s good.

Mother and Daddy are planning to go to Washington, D.C. early in the morning by plane. They were going to drive and take me, but gas rationing caught up with us so I’m staying. Grams will sleep with me, but as far as meals are concerned I’m on my own. I’ve got seven dollars, so I can eat a lot of my meals out.