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Friday February 24, 1978

St Matthias

A better Friday than I thought it would be. Christine phoned in the morning to see if I fancied a night at Oakwood Hall but I said no because of my financial situation. I have exactly £1 to see me through until next Thursday! I didn't sulk about the situation, and took it in my stride.

Mum and Dad have taken to fell walking and this afternoon was no exception. When I threw myself over the threshold tonight they were piled up ~ all muddy ~ like a pair of Siamese mud wrestlers. Mama provided us with a Chinese nosh from the takeaway down the road.

Darling Christine came at 8 dressed in a sailor suit. Able Seawoman Braithwaite tended to my every need until chucking out time. We had a few at the Hare, then the Fox, then back to the Hare, and finally (at my suggestion) the Drop. Alone we make an exquisite couple. Joined by by Pete M, Chris, Martyn and Tony. Lynne Mather was out too.  ___________. At the Drop Christine and I were back on form ~ it's pure friendship. No matter what happens to me or to Christine we will always be like ham and eggs, marriage and divorce, you name it. Our friendship will go on forever. Oh dear, am I perhaps slightly pissed?

-=-

Thursday February 23, 1978

Yes, dear reader, the thaw is upon us. But the poor soggy people in Devon and Cornwall are 2,000,000 fathoms beneath the frozen depths of whatever sea surrounds that picturesque peninsula.

Blimey, this time next week and it will be March and everything that this month brings to mind will be going on in the hedgerows and fields of this great island of ours. Let's hope that the mood of the population brightens. I really wouldn't mind creating a new life in 1978. I'm nearly 23 ____________.

To get a bit, or slightly serious: yesterday I sent a letter to Helen & Graham from my solicitors moaning about the lack of communication from Ailesworth ... and what do you think? Yes, I had a letter in this morning's post saying May 19 is just right. They probably think I'm over the top in the Happy World, where all right minded people belong.

Watched a good Yankee film on BBC2. Jim and Margaret Nason came up at 9 and stayed until approx 12. The evening ended with everyone laughing and in high spirits. Lynn __________________________.Oh dear.

-=-

Wednesday February 22, 1978

The traffic on New Road Side woke me at 6:30. Hungover. Predictable really. Christine's Mum went off to work hailing her goodbyes at me as I lay ~ almost in state ~ on her settee. She looked older. I haven't seen her since Mr Braithwaite died in May.

CB and Honey.
Christine was up and looked just as she did last night. I think she has an 'A' Level in 'How to Drink to Excess Without Suffering the Repercussions'. She buggered about under her car bonnet whilst I was entertained by Honey, the gorgeous doggy. It's a Golden Retriever with a bit of Alsatian thrown in. We laughed when CB told me she wanted to call it 'Spot'.

A cup of coffee and mug of orange juice gave me a boost and at 8 I bid my fond farewells and cleared off on a green bus to the YP. Having a bus stop at the garden gate must be bliss. Or is it?

CB gave me a letter that she intended posting today and I read it on my short, cold journey into Leeds. I roared with laughter and tears trickled down my icy cheeks at her wondrous composition. The girl is the greatest!

At the office Sarah and Eileen pulled my leg all morning about my stay at Horsforth. Mind you, to them I suppose it appeared more than it actually was. I left at 2:00 because I was in no fit state to do any work. My eye balls were hanging over the sides of my sockets.


Found my way home in the mist and fog and spent the remainder of the day in confinement at the fireside. For each second that I managed to keep my eyelids from caving in I thought I deserved a Duke of Edinburgh Award, preferably of the gold variety. Sadly, however, my courage went unrecognised. It's typical of the age in which we live that good British 'graft' is taken for granted.

-=-

Sunday March 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn British Summer Time begins 3rd Sunday in Lent Bacon sandwiches and the Sunday Telegraph. Fuss about the Queen's visit to ...