_. I have to be very diplomatic these days. Sue & Pete's squabbling makes the Thursday nights out with the lads a delicate and highly inflammable operation. So, at the YP, I decided to give tonight a miss and instead go to see Lynn & Dave at Burley. I made all the arrangements with Lynn, who was pleased because I have ignored the Lawn Road branch of the family in recent weeks.
Chippy phoned this afternoon and went berserk when I said no to the weekly Oakwood Hall jaunt. Foul language flowed from him like lava from Vesuvius, but I was not deterred from my path of righteousness.
Dave B picked me up at 5:30pm and we first went to John Little's where he collected £25 for a drawing job. Bessie Little was her usual, delightful self. On to Lawn Road where Lynn made a paella for us. She never eats. One day she will collapse with starvation in Yeadon.
Watched TV and bought alcohol from Beasley's. Saw a Humphrey Bogart epic on the BBC and then had a bet on tonight's parliamentary by-election. I bet that Labour will hold the seat, but Dave backed the Liberals. However, we switched off before the results came through.
-=-
Showing posts with label burley in wharfedale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label burley in wharfedale. Show all posts
20170301
20160621
Friday January 19, 1979
Snows like Hell all day. Getting to work was tedious.
Sarah phoned at 11 o'clock to say she doesn't want to go see 'Jaws 2' tonight because of the atrocious weather. (She's on half day). Besides, Delia will not move from her fireside when such weather prevails. I am cheered by this news because it will be nice to see Alison (Dixon) tonight.
At home by 6:30pm - deep snow. Alison's car only just made it up the lane. She's in the lounge eating sandwiches, looking thinner and pale. She is so sweet. ___________.
Alison phoned Lynn and they had mild hysterics & at 7pm, armed with sleeping bags, hot water bottles and thermal underwear we, Alison and I in her car, with shovels, headed down to Burley in Wharfedale. We arrived to be bombarded with snowballs by David. He had that devilish glint in his eye. We waited until almost 10pm for Susan and Peter who travelled down by bus.
Watched the final episode of "Edward and Mrs Simpson" - enjoyable. Lynn's attitude is one of stubbornness this evening.
Went over to the Red Lion at 10 o'clock and in the space of one feeble hour spent £20! The ladies drank brandy and Babycham & we boys had pints with whisky chasers. Disgusting really.
At 11:15 Lynn was singing "Winchester Cathedral" to the amiable, fat landlord. At 11:30 Lynn was out cold in the snow and David, Peter and I had to give her a 'chairlift' home. She was so very pissed up. At midnight she fell over the back of her settee, and later fell in the bathroom and smashed her head on the tiles. The remaining five of us drank and listened to music and played charades until after 3am. Peter N is very good at mime. Like Marcel Marceau, in fact. The funniest film titles he depicted were 'Bridge on the River Kwai' and Kelly's Heroes'.
At some ridiculous hour David began laying tiles on a worktop in the kitchen (yes, tiles are the in thing today). At about 4 we took to our sleeping bags. We were nice to Ally and gave her the spare bedroom.
-=-
Sarah phoned at 11 o'clock to say she doesn't want to go see 'Jaws 2' tonight because of the atrocious weather. (She's on half day). Besides, Delia will not move from her fireside when such weather prevails. I am cheered by this news because it will be nice to see Alison (Dixon) tonight.
At home by 6:30pm - deep snow. Alison's car only just made it up the lane. She's in the lounge eating sandwiches, looking thinner and pale. She is so sweet. ___________.
 |
| Alison Dixon: thinner, pale and sweet ... |
Alison phoned Lynn and they had mild hysterics & at 7pm, armed with sleeping bags, hot water bottles and thermal underwear we, Alison and I in her car, with shovels, headed down to Burley in Wharfedale. We arrived to be bombarded with snowballs by David. He had that devilish glint in his eye. We waited until almost 10pm for Susan and Peter who travelled down by bus.
Watched the final episode of "Edward and Mrs Simpson" - enjoyable. Lynn's attitude is one of stubbornness this evening.
Went over to the Red Lion at 10 o'clock and in the space of one feeble hour spent £20! The ladies drank brandy and Babycham & we boys had pints with whisky chasers. Disgusting really.
At 11:15 Lynn was singing "Winchester Cathedral" to the amiable, fat landlord. At 11:30 Lynn was out cold in the snow and David, Peter and I had to give her a 'chairlift' home. She was so very pissed up. At midnight she fell over the back of her settee, and later fell in the bathroom and smashed her head on the tiles. The remaining five of us drank and listened to music and played charades until after 3am. Peter N is very good at mime. Like Marcel Marceau, in fact. The funniest film titles he depicted were 'Bridge on the River Kwai' and Kelly's Heroes'.
At some ridiculous hour David began laying tiles on a worktop in the kitchen (yes, tiles are the in thing today). At about 4 we took to our sleeping bags. We were nice to Ally and gave her the spare bedroom.
-=-
20160324
Sunday January 14, 1979
2nd after Epiphany. We crawled out of our respective holes at about 10:30am for breakfast after which we played cards on the dining room table until 12:30. Sue howled with laughter at Dave G's hopelessness. At 1pm we had one in the Red Lion again before devouring a lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding
Lynn loves to cook and entertain and she does it very well.
Cards continued throughout the afternoon. Chris Baker and Julie (Harris) arrived. Julie puts an instant smile on my face, but nobody else seems to find her amusing or entertaining. Chris B looks upon me as a lunatic, or eccentric, for some strange reason. They left after an hour or so.
Lynn complained of feeling grotty and took off to bed for a couple of hours, but none of this interrupted the card game. They (the Bakers) finally got rid of us at about 8:30 & we returned home. A good weekend.
Watched the film "Room At the Top" with Dave.
-=-
Lynn loves to cook and entertain and she does it very well.
Cards continued throughout the afternoon. Chris Baker and Julie (Harris) arrived. Julie puts an instant smile on my face, but nobody else seems to find her amusing or entertaining. Chris B looks upon me as a lunatic, or eccentric, for some strange reason. They left after an hour or so.
Lynn complained of feeling grotty and took off to bed for a couple of hours, but none of this interrupted the card game. They (the Bakers) finally got rid of us at about 8:30 & we returned home. A good weekend.
Watched the film "Room At the Top" with Dave.
-=-
Saturday January 13, 1979
Dave (Glynn) and I had breakfast with Sue. Poor Mum is in bed with an upset stomach & so she didn't surface all day. Pale and ghastly.
Dave and I had a little pub crawl in Guiseley. We had one at the Yorkshire Rose where an OAP told us that his Jack Russell terrier is pregnant. A tart in the bar referred to the landlord as "you big fat twat". Yes, a nice, tasteful atmosphere prevailed. We made our way to the incredibly dull Regent and finally, at 2:45pm, onto the Station Hotel.
Snow and ice underfoot was something of a hazard to begin with but the more we drank the more confident we became negotiating the glassy footpaths like John Currie and Robin Cousins.{I suspect both these gents are close friends of Jeremy Thorpe, MP}.
Tonight: to Burley~in~Wharfedale with Dave, Sue & Pete to see Lynn and Dave B. The Bakers both looked as fit as butcher's dogs - especially Lynn who is pink and 'radiating'. We all piled into the Red Lion following a pantomime on ice in the car park there. Boozed solidly until 11 o'clock and then took fish & chips back to Lawn Road . We laughed at the fact that for the purposes of the kitty Dave and I were classed as a 'couple'.
We drank until about 1:30am & then Susie and Pete staggered off to the spare bedroom for a further instalment of the wildest pre~marital experience since Anthony & Cleopatra.
Dave B collapsed onto the sofa and didn't bat an eyelid until after 3 leaving Dave G, Lynn and I singing along to Nat King Cole's greatest hits. Dave B makes a regular habit of slipping into a convenient coma at every available opportunity. He hops off to bed or collapses into a medium sized heap on the carpet. Good old Dave. He thrust a £10 note into my hot, grasping hand when I said I wanted to buy a pair of shoes on Monday. (I shall, of course, let him have it back next week). But isn't it marvellous of him to 'see me right'? A real brother is David Baker, a real brother.
Lynn finally carried her husband off to bed and Dave G and I slept in the lounge (or sitting room depending on how posh you happen to be). It was 3:30am, I think.
-=-
Dave and I had a little pub crawl in Guiseley. We had one at the Yorkshire Rose where an OAP told us that his Jack Russell terrier is pregnant. A tart in the bar referred to the landlord as "you big fat twat". Yes, a nice, tasteful atmosphere prevailed. We made our way to the incredibly dull Regent and finally, at 2:45pm, onto the Station Hotel.
Snow and ice underfoot was something of a hazard to begin with but the more we drank the more confident we became negotiating the glassy footpaths like John Currie and Robin Cousins.{I suspect both these gents are close friends of Jeremy Thorpe, MP}.
Tonight: to Burley~in~Wharfedale with Dave, Sue & Pete to see Lynn and Dave B. The Bakers both looked as fit as butcher's dogs - especially Lynn who is pink and 'radiating'. We all piled into the Red Lion following a pantomime on ice in the car park there. Boozed solidly until 11 o'clock and then took fish & chips back to Lawn Road . We laughed at the fact that for the purposes of the kitty Dave and I were classed as a 'couple'.
We drank until about 1:30am & then Susie and Pete staggered off to the spare bedroom for a further instalment of the wildest pre~marital experience since Anthony & Cleopatra.
Dave B collapsed onto the sofa and didn't bat an eyelid until after 3 leaving Dave G, Lynn and I singing along to Nat King Cole's greatest hits. Dave B makes a regular habit of slipping into a convenient coma at every available opportunity. He hops off to bed or collapses into a medium sized heap on the carpet. Good old Dave. He thrust a £10 note into my hot, grasping hand when I said I wanted to buy a pair of shoes on Monday. (I shall, of course, let him have it back next week). But isn't it marvellous of him to 'see me right'? A real brother is David Baker, a real brother.
Lynn finally carried her husband off to bed and Dave G and I slept in the lounge (or sitting room depending on how posh you happen to be). It was 3:30am, I think.
-=-
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