Showing posts with label diamond dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diamond dogs. Show all posts

20100323

Saturday May 17, 1975



Hilarious day. Mum got me out of bed at 12 to accomapny her to Morrison's for the weekly pile of nosh and general necessities. In unbearable heat we chase about the shop for the best part of an hour, picking Sue up at the hairdressers on the way home.

A 2pm Gillian comes round with 'Diamond Dogs' by Bowie, and after half an hour the two of us decide to pay a call on Chris, who is messing about with his guttering (roof guttering and all that) with the aid and assistance of John of course. After messing about on a couple of buses Gillian and I arrive at Horsforth at about 2.30 to discover Mrs Ratcliffe pottering around in the rubble of what was once 21, Victoria Drive. She was all covered in paint saying things like: 'Oh, Chris and John disappeared half an hour ago down Town Street'. We sat about waiting for the two workers to return and when they do we follow them outside and clown about on the lawn, eating ice lollipops and making foolery and merriment. John dangling about at the top of a ladder just didn't look safe, and Gillian felt quite sickly just watching him. Home at about 6 in a mild drizzle to have tea.

Mum and Dad are at Leeds General Infirmary visiting Auntie Mabel, and therefore I make the tea consisting of fish fingers and peas. Very nice too, although I say it myself.

Out to the Hare & Hounds at about 8 and Gillian more or less tags onto me for the night. After a disagreement in the Malt Shovel, Burley-in-Wharfedale, the happy family splits up and Laura takes her mob to Ilkley and John, Gillian, Christine Dibb and I go to the White Horse in Burley to see Cousin Dorothy. We leave at about 11.10 after exchanging reminiscences with Dorothy. Played dominos for the first time in years.

-=-

20091220

Thursday February 20, 1975


Eileen and I go to the Central for lunch again. I say 'again' because we did the same thing last Thursday, but that seems to have been missed from these historic pages. Swill down a few pints of lager before moving reluctantly back to the YP.

Chaos reigned this morning. Evidently, the Dowager Lady Mowbray, Segrave & Stourton saw fit to do herself in last night, and alas, no photos of the obscure, highly neglected lady are to be found in our files. The newsdesk and Donald Futrell went berserk, but calmness was dispersed by our beloved leader, Miss Rainford.

Us librarians are getting sick of the quiet and the cold, which we are forced to endure while workmen install new air conditioning in the press hall. Will we survive until May. Wait and see.

At 8.30 John and I go to Gillian's for a beer and record session (nothing else either). Have one glass of Dad's home brew concoction, then decide not to bother with any more. Listen to the Monty Python LP (mine) and a bit of Bowie's 'Diamond Dogs'. Gillian gets even worse, and I'm going to have to make it clear that a) I'm not going to sleep with her, and b) marry her, or c) buy her the Smirnoff Vodka Company. Home at 12 feeling horribly tired, or incredibly bored. I expect it was the latter disease.

-==-

Thursday April 12, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn I played Hercules Poirot tonight and stood at the bar in the tap room mixing with the Hunslet folk and observing the staff. T...