YP all day. Nearly Christmas once more. Doesn't seem ten minutes since the last one really.
Go with John, Mum and Dad to see cousin Dorothy at the White Horse in Burley-in-Wharfedale. She is not really like any of the Wilsons I know. My calculations show she's the daughter of my grandfather's elder brother, Edward Wilson. Mum says he was a typical local character whose vocabulary consisted of little other than swear words and uncouth language. 'The salt of the earth' as Dad would say. We have a few drinks at Burley before coming home for supper. On arriving home I call in on the Blackwells with a bottle of rum which Mum bought for them. They keep me for ages talking about the weather of yesteryear. Evidently, 1933 and 1947 were the worst Christmases they have known.
Pork sandwiches for supper with Lynn, Sue, Peter and Dave. See a cronic ghost story before coming to bed after 12.
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The journal of a Yorkshire lad from the age of 17 in 1973 through several decades .... Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
Showing posts with label edward wilson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label edward wilson. Show all posts
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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...
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3rd Sunday after Epiphany 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford Baby slept until 6am which is amazing. Ally however woke at three and then...
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5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford Samuel has a hairy back and shoulders, you know. I have to record these things because in ten years ...