Showing posts with label father scannell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label father scannell. Show all posts

20101109

Wednesday March 10, 1976

Mum woke me at 6am while she was struggling to the bathroom on one leg like Long John Silver. Of all the times to be rendered crippled! I can forsee her being carried down the aisle on a stretcher on Saturday which, if nothing else, will raise a few laughs from our sadistic, insane family.

It rains slightly as Jim and I drive to Leeds but it clears up. I hate rain.

It is rewarding to see the Union Jack hoist up outside the YP because I am responsible for supplying Tom Lambert with the up-to-date list of flag flying days. Today is Prince Edward's 12th birthday. If I hadn't stopped him Tom would have had the flag fluttering on the mast on March 31 for Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester. When Tom asked me why we don't fly it for Henry anymore I had to answer in very simple terms: 'He's dead Tom, that's why.'

Home for chicken which was cooked by Dad. John is still behaving strangely and is very bad tempered. Must be his way of showing he's just as nervous as the rest of us.

The wedding rehearsal tonight at Burley-in-Wharfedale, but when we get to the church it is all in darkness. John comes tearing down the road to say it's all off. We think he means the wedding is off, but it's only the rehearsal. Father Scannell has forgotten all about it and has gone off with his brother. The silly old boy is over 70 and seems to be on the verge of senility.

John, Lynn and I go in the spitfire to the Hare. We are all nostalgic. Lynn says it's the last pre-wedding drink we'll have together. The three of us then went to Maria's and chat until 11.30 or so.

-==-

20101008

Tuesday January 27, 1976

I despatched a letter to David in Worcester on the John/Maria subject. I hope he'll get home for the celebrations this coming weekend.

Work was quite busy and I'm still doing the YP indexing with Sarah, who tells me, incidentally, that her father has been promoted and sent to Sheffield. Is this goodbye to Sarah Collis? If it is I won't bother coming all the way to the YP from Ripon, because she's the only decent person in the place.

I come home from work to find Dad in bed completely taken over by 'flu, and Mum isn't in a much better state, and is making dinner.

John rushes in and has a bath and then goes straight to see the priest (Father Scannell), with Maria, at Burley-in-Wharfedale. John hob nobbing with Roman Catholic priests in the dead of night! Who'd have thought it? You could knock me down with a feather, you really could.

It came to me today that my life with John is more or less over. For twenty years we have seen each other every day, and it's going to be hard getting used to not having him around. For 20 years we've shared a bedroom, and in just over six weeks he'll be gone forever - sad really.

Molly Macdonald rings at 8.30 to confirm that the wedding day is March 13, and it will take place at Burley, and that the reception will be at Acacia House, and that each family can have 25 guests each not including the principal participants. I am confimed as best man, and Lynn, Susan and Elizabeth will be bridesmaids. I'm having a nervous breakdown.______________.

Bed at midnight after no sighting of the -happy couple'. _________.

-==-

Monday January 26, 1976


Mum wasn't feeling too well on Saturday and the shock of John's announcement last night has just about finished her off altogether. She had a day in bed, but by the time I arrived home she was cheery and discussing engagement presents with Susan.

John and Maria went too see the priest at the RC church in Burley-in-Wharfedale this evening and came home with tales of hilarity about the old devil. They think the 'big day' is to be March 13, but I don't think it's definate yet. (Our great-grandfather John Wilson was born on March 13, 1853 - just thought I'd mention it.)

John asked me to be his 'best man' and I'm on the edge of my seat with the excitement and terror of it all. God only knows where it is all going to end - and I hope that the wedding bells aren't going to give Carole any ideas because she's going to be disappointed if she expects similar treatment. __________.

To think I have always had John 'married off' as it were, in these pages, to Carol Smith, Naomi Downing and of course dear Christine White, but I don't think I've mentioned the 'does this mean wedding bells?' with him and Miss Maria Christine Macdonald.... or have I?

See the Peter Sellers film 'What's New Pussycat' or something. A brilliant film, and as far as I am concerned Peter Sellers can do no wrong.

Carole rang at 7 and we talked for half an hour or so. I don't think we'll be going out until Thursday night and am surprised to hear that she hasn't spoken to Mrs Phillips since the latter told Molly Macdonald that I had short arms and long pockets. No doubt all will be patched up between them in good time.

-==-

Friday April 20, 1984

 Good Friday Moorhouse Inn, Leeds In days of old I complained , nay played hell, about the archaic licensing laws on this Holy day. Not now....