Showing posts with label boxing day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boxing day. Show all posts

20140806

Tuesday December 26, 1978

Boxing Day Bank Holiday {except Scotland}


St Stephen. Slightly better. Merry Christmas.

John, Maria and JPH joined us. I phoned Sarah and told her I'm having it off until after the New Year (HaHa).

Sod the New Year's Honours list. Besides, who cares if Arthur Worsley becomes a CH or whether Dame Vera Lynn gets the George Cross? I don't.

Good King Wenceslas looked out today, didn't he? But  what year? I reckon it must have been in the 1000s.

Forgive the abominable handwriting. It isn't anything to do with booze. Someone has hidden my trusty fountain pen and no end of reckless searching has found it. So, I'm reduced to this scrawl with what is commonly styled a felt~tipped pen.

-=-

20121221

Monday December 26, 1977

Bank Holiday in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

Dave.
David's Christmas party. For the first time in many years Mr & Mrs L(awson) haven't gone to Blackpool for the Yuletide festivities, but instead they spend the night at Sandra's.  The event went off with the usual bang. All the gang turned up except CB who is once again having boyfriend bother (Oh God).  Mr______made his usual quip about my dancing, and so I got my own back when he was preparing to leave. He and _____(who was surly, morose and introverted) left together and before a large audience in the kitchen I quipped: "Ay, Ay, off for our traditional screw on the Chevin, are we?" Tee Hee. Sandra was grotesquely pissed and I fear some of her lustre has faded. Linda D______ was present. A bit of a tart, I fear. _____.

Slept in my usual rooms at Tennyson Street. God knows what time I eventually crashed out.

-=-

20120113

Sunday December 26, 1976


1st after Christmas. It isn't Boxing Day today. I don't think so anyway. Boxing Day cannot fall on a Sunday. However, Yuletide or not I'm well aware of the excitement you undoubtedly share for the gripping adventures of the Hay clan. Now read on.

He [William de la Haye no less See Dec 21] was granted a charter [still intact and well preserved in the Erroll papers] of the feudal barony of Erroll in the Tay estuary, county Perth, most of the witnesses being also Anglo-Normans from Cotenin. He [William de la Haye that is] married a nice lass by the name of Eva a Celtic heiress, of Pitmilly, and possibly of other lands near the Tay estuary, and the old legend that the lands of Erroll were acquired by a Falcon's flight, in reward for an ancient victory over Viking invaders, may have been derived from the clan of which she was heiress....

Is this a Nut House? Surely only a loony could fill his diary with such rubbish? I wonder what Margaret Thatcher is putting in her diary at the moment? 'Lunched with Ted at his place before going over the ruddy devolution problem with Quintin [Lord Hailsham] at his place. Shirley [Williams] had a nice gown on today. She says she picked it up cheap in the C & A sales....' and so on.

20091215

Thursday December 26, 1974

Boxing Day. Holiday in England, Ireland & Wales. Christine finished with Philip at Dave's Christmas party. I am bereft of all comment on the situation. My capacity to deal with the English language is shown to be completely useless when I give it news of such a sizeable calamity as this to cope with. She handed the (engagement) ring back and he went off heart-broken into the wind and rain of the night.

The party itself was super. Dave playing the perfect host as usual, and all went well. Everyone came, and I received my first opportunity to form an opinion of Adrian, espoused of Miss Akroyd.

MM and Marita were sat heaped in a corner all evening - not at all the enthusiastic couple. I became more than just merry. Exactly, I was pissed up beyond the level of safety. Danced with Christine for much of the time. She kept saying how relieved she was to have ended it all with Philip. As though a great cloud had been raised from above her. Carol Smith's little scouse of a boyfriend kept threatening to kill the other male party goers when they attemmpted to dance with his darling. God! Just who does he think SHE is?

Sandy and I made beans on toast at about 4am. John managed to coat himself with more than a liberal layering of baked beans, which set concrete hard by 10am.

-==-

Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...