Showing posts with label floral dance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label floral dance. Show all posts

20121209

Wednesday December 7, 1977

Snow upon snow. A thick, white layer everywhere.

Carole phoned me at 5:00pm to thank me for the letter. She says she's probably coming home on Friday. I'm elated. ____________. My letter must have been sentimental. It's made her realise just what I'm thinking. I put Mum on and they chatted for ages.______________. Today I wrote to Kathryn (Young) and Christine. Dad's typewriter in the house prompted this industriousness.

It's becoming very 'Christmasy' you know. Mum is playing 'The Floral Dance' by the Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band on the record player and the combination of this, the weather, and general cheer will undoubtedly be confusing Santa into coming early.

I have laid hands on a pair of cord trousers from Mum's catalogue. Black ones - very nice too.

-=-

Wednesday May 2, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11 Mum. To try and keep a journal, run and pub and a baby is asking the impossible. Gone is that old wit and sparkle b...