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Wednesday January 17, 1979

Deep snow this morning. Got in Jim Rawnsley's car at 8:10 & we didn't get to the YP until after 10. Two bloody hours just to go 10 feeble miles. I do believe I have walked home from the centre of Leeds in a similar length of time.

Little Jennie is improving and becoming more tolerable, but it may be because I've resigned myself to the fact.

I failed to mention that David G returned to Stockport on Monday by the 9:30 coach from Leeds.

At the YP: the NUJ are returning to work on Monday and the prospects are not thrilling. Our card playing afternoons in the cathedral~like atmosphere of what was a busy newsroom are sadly, numbered. Kathleen is aware of our latest craze and Sarah thinks our beloved boss is saving up her accusations until a suitable day of reckoning can be chosen. _________.

Malcolm Barker: rocketed in my estimation.
Malcolm Barker has rocketed in my estimation since the beginning oh hostilities with the NUJ. No longer will I regard him as an ale swilling hyper-thyroid editor full of his own importance. Malcolm is indeed a saint, and I for one am 100 per cent behind him. Three cheers and all that. Indeed, we chatter away now like old pals. He's no longer the terrifying boss of my youth.

Home at 5pm. Snow has given way to pouring rain. Eat moussaka, heavily laden with garlic. Poor Susan complained about the after-effects all night.  One thing's for certain, Count Dracula won't be taking her for his gruesome band this dark evening.

Alison Dixon is coming up on Friday, but it's all a big secret from Lynn & Dave. It will be great to see her again. Mum, who spoke to her today, says she sounded cheerful. Retired to bed at 11:37pm. Early eh?


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