Great evening. John and I go down to the Hare at 7pm for a few drinks before going round to 'George's' for the coming onslaught. 'George' is 17 tomorrow, though you'd think she was much older. This isn't intended as an insult by any means, because I like her very much. We go to the Macdonald residence at 7.30 and meet Hugh or Hew, her brother, and his wife. The women take hours to get ready, and whilst the gentlemen are waiting we consume quite a few whiskies.
I know it's shameful, but I can't remember the name of the place in Bingley where we dined. I distinctly remember spilling a glass of red wine over the table and on Jimmy (Macdonald), 'George's' older brother, but the service was perfect and the waiters were falling over each other to clear up the mess. A trio played soft music whilst we ate, and after the meal they had a bash at a few rock 'n roll numbers. 'George' was playing the piano and Jimmy did a turn on the drums. Hilarity.
Carole, who I was supposed to partner, was incredibly dull, and didn't eat a thing, which put me off her straight away. She doesn't eat meat, fish or vegetables, and takes rellish in baked beans, and other crude substances. Is is down to her Roman Catholic upbringing? Mr Macdonald refused all offers of cash, and footed the bill himself. 12 of us: Mr and Mrs Macdonald, Hugh and his wife, Jimmy, John, 'George', Pamela Moffat, Carole and me. Sorry, I mean ten of us. Phew, it must have cost a fortune.
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