Mother woke me at 10:30 with a coffee and the horrible Daily Mail. Half an hour later they collected Edith and Ernest and set off to Morecambe where they are holidaying for the weekend.
A bright, sunny morning, but the confounded snow is still clinging to the garden. The poor daffodils look absolutely stupid. I sat with the radio blasting merrily away and with a volume of Mr Pepys's journal laying open. The 1650s were no less permissive than the 1970s. Some of the people today who moan about the state of affairs ~ morally ~ really should spend half an hour with Samuel Pepys, Esq.
I spent the whole day eating, reading and being blasted out of my chair by the record player. Sarah phoned at lunchtime to ask for the maiden name of the divorced wife of the present Earl of Dartmouth. After a slight pause I told her that the lady is the former Miss Raine McCorquodale, now wife of Lord Spencer, and daughter of the revolting authoress Barbara Cartland. To be honest, I thought Sarah was really phoning to see if I was really laid up at home, and the aristocratic inquiry was a last resort when I surprised her by picking up the receiver. I do have a devious mind.
Raine McCorquodale, Countess Spencer.
For lunch I made fish and parsley sauce with a touch of garlic. Susan was home at 4:30 and we had a prawn curry. Can you imagine what state my breath is in? However, undaunted, I met Jacq at 7:45 and went to the Yorkshire Rose. From here we went to the Crown at Yeadon (a cold night) and then the Clothiers where we were joined by Sue, Pete, Gus, Chippy, Janet Simon, Dave (Wainwright), Brian Johnson, &c. I was 'grossly over served' with drink, for the want of a better phrase, and smoked several of Jacq's cigarettes.
At 11:30 we all went back to Pine Tops where the spotty faced, teenage Dave made several passes at Jacq saying he'd never liked Cockneys until he met her. To be honest, he was only hanging around to smoke her cigs.
I was legless and threw up in the garden that is dear Papa's pride and joy. I was in a disgusting state. Chippy and Gus were behaving in a riotous fashion.
Lynn and Dave were utter miseries and she stormed off to bed after Dave's departure and insisted on yelling down at me from the top of the stairs about the volume of the record player. Susan and Peter somehow managed to snatch my bed and Jacq and I collapsed on Mum and Dad's bed. I think it was probably 2:30am when things died down.