Showing posts with label ink. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ink. Show all posts

20131115

Tuesday October 3, 1978

Sorry about the change of ink again (from red to black). I really am quite sick of the red mess that's dominated these pages since Lynne Mather's demise in February, 1977. I do feel that the time for celebration is over, don't you?

On the subject of my 'love life' _____________________________________.

Christine phoned this afternoon. She's exhausted and flat broke and suggested we postpone our meeting until a week on Thursday. I am very disappointed but agreed to this change of plan. Instead I shall go to the Shoulder (of Mutton) with Peter and the boys. Frank (Hall) was released from hospital with nothing but bruises so no doubt he'll be out to tell the tale.

Back to Christine: she sounded positively devilish on the telephone, so much so that my laughter and loud inuendo apparently brought the office to a standstill and Kathleen had to prod my in the spine and ask me to belt up after about 15 minutes.

Saw "Roots" tonight. Later heard the Prime Minister speaking at his party conference in sunny Blackpool. He really is becoming quite an orator in his old age. But this 5 per cent pay increase limit just leaves me cold. I need an increase of about 105 per cent to bring me into the basic living wage brigade.

Callaghan should have been having a general election this week instead of mucking around at the seaside. This long drawn out farewell can't be doing any of us any good.

To bed at 11:56pm with Adolf Hitler.

-=-

20130615

Sunday June 4, 1978

2nd Sunday after Trinity

I do believe my dear friend Mr Ratcliffe celebrates a birthday today. I would never have remembered had it not been for David's observation of this in Harrogate on Friday.

Forgive this 'yucky' ink but I'm afraid I cannot be bothered to take down a bottle of sensible coloured ink from the shelf. Yes, I am a lazy sod.

In thunderous conditions we drove Jacq to Leeds at 9:30 ~ taking cousin Julie with us ~ and from Leeds we went on to Uncle Peter's to give him back his eldest daughter. The Wilson girls are very nice. Beverley and Julie are very quiet and polite, but Penny is the joker with the glint in her eyes and toothless grin. Peter was 'out at the club putting his numbers on' whatever that means. We departed at 10:30 in a homeward direction.

-=-

20120527

Wednesday May 11, 1977

Don't hear a bloody thing until Mum and Dad come in for lunch at 1.45pm. Sat yawning over a cup of tea and then opened my mail. Two bloody letters. One from Helen Malin which points out I owe her £1 and not vice versa. Oh shit. I said that the royal baby would be born in the spring or summer of '77 and if it arrived any later I would pay up. What a horrific thought. The other is a letter from Kathryn. It is perfection itself and I settle down to reply and before I know where I am it's 4 o'clock and time to go to the dreaded YP.

Diary: red ink works wonders
Charged down the lane and got at bus. At the office for 5. I made enquiries about coaches for Saturday returning Sunday. Peter Mather amazes me __________.

Work was busy and tiresome. Ursula is very nice to work with. I do believe I experienced an erotic dream about her the other night. Of all people. I must be daft or something. How do you like my change of handwriting? Mrs Monkman, who left number 60 yesterday, gave me the pen. I do believe her brother sent it to her from Japan. One would have thought that the Japs would have caught onto the biro by now. I still think this nice red hue works wonders. Blue ink became so depressing.

The taxi driver tonight was no leading authority in any field. If he was he didn't bring it into the conversation.

-=-




20120214

Thursday February 24, 1977

What do you think of the red ink? After a fortnight with it I'm not quite sure whether it's quite right for the job. Blimey, it's a bit of a strain on the old eye-balls, isn't it? Should I perhaps go blue again? No, I've paid 25p for a bottle of Quink so I'll be damned if I'm going to give in and revert to the traditional hue. This colour may be loud and cheeky but it's symbolic of my life at the moment.

Tony: moaning
Pay day today. Not very rewarding though because Barclays Bank want £60 from me, or else. I pay up without much fuss and then draw out £10 to survive for the next week. I should have said "withdrawn" but the sexual connotations of the word would have distracted my readers from the importance of the story. The less said about money the better.

At the office I managed to lay hands on four free tickets to the Leeds 'premiere' at the ABC Cinema of  'The Last Tycoon' starring Tony Curtis, Jack Nicholson and Ingrid Boulting. Ring Martyn and Tony and they decide to come along. They arrive at 8.30 dressed to kill and raring to go. I have to change into decent apparel in order to accompany them. Have at drink at the Hare and then go to the Ostlers. The film began at 11pm and only Sarah from the YP, with Peter B go along, and our revered film critic Alan Thompson, who was ______.
By 11.10 Martyn was asleep and Tony was moaning uncontrollably. The film is from the book by F. Scott Fitzgerald. That accounts for it really. I like his books and I think I was the only person in the UK who didn't go into a coma during the film of 'The Great Gatsby'. Tony and I, in the darkness, argue about the film, and a guy two rows in front turns and asks us to 'belt up'. I thought Tony was going to become violent. However, he lit a cigarette instead. By 1am he can take no more and I'm forced to leave the film with it still in full swing. Outside Tony quips: "It's a good thing he was the last tycoon, because I couldn't stand another one."

-=-

20110930

Tuesday November 9, 1976




Not a particularly historic day by any means. Not a particularly energetic one either and if you think I'm going downstairs for a bottle of ink you've got another thing coming. [The fountain pen dried up after 'by any means' and the rest was completed in biro].

Ring Tony at 7.30. He isn't in. He rings me 10 minutes later and we chat about nothing of importance. He's found a new love by the name of Deborah or something. He's coming up here tomorrow night.

No contact with Lynne today. Don't worry though, we're still very good friends. Write to Glen in Stockport and assure him that he and Dave Glynn can come here any time. Next weekend may be a good idea. We shall see anyway.

Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson tonight. How many books dedicated to him have I read? Each one alters my opinion. No doubt about it he was an extremely complex fellow. Freda Dudley Ward played a bigger part in his life than I thought.

Bed at 11.15. Having a half day on Friday to getmy hair cut. Weekend without Lynne. No doubt this will signify a night of debauchery at the Stoney Lea.

-==-

Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...