Sunday September 17, 1978

17th after Trinity

Out of bed at 11. Jacq and I kept Mum awake in the small hours of the morning playing records. Sue and Pete announce they are going to Cracoe near Skipton for lunch and they invited Jacq and I to join them at the Devonshire Arms. The four of us piled into Pete's car and headed for the Dales.

At Cracoe Jacq and I only had 2 drinks and no food due to gross financial embarrassment and we watched Sue and Pete eat prawn sandwiches and chips. From here we left for Malham but Pete announced he was short of fuel, and we were compelled to stop off at Foxup, where his cousin farms, to snatch petrol. The smell of the roast dinner at Foxup Farm almost drove me mad.

Back home at 5 we had fish and chips and half an hour later Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret and Julie left to collect Lynn and Dave from East Midlands Airport. Sue and Pete went down to his house, and Jacq and I watched the telly. Lynn, Dave and party returned at 11. They looked brown, happy and well.

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Sunday May 25, 1975

Trinity Sunday. Day Three at Grassington: Nice day. Beautiful weather, though probably just a bit windy. After waking up at the same hideous, and unusual time as yesterday we once again partook of a fried breakfast, which isn't agreeing with John at all.

We intended going off to Malham, but because of the time we changed our minds and decided to go swimming at Skipton Baths. Spend a good afternoon in Skipton, and feel greatly rejuvenated after my first splash around in a pool for what seems like decades.

Back at the tent we lounge around in deckchairs listening to the Top 20 on Radio One. Well, Pete and myself did this. John and Chris were busy frying tea.

After the traditional fried meal we bung a few stones in the river and collect wood for another camp fire and generally prepare ourselves for the coming onslaught of alcohol.

To Linton and Grassington drinking. John is back on form again and we manage to deplete the beer stocks of several Yorkshire pubs.

The second camp fire proved successful again, but we are all melancholy because it's our last night. Chris was acting daft when he saw the full moon, complaining that he believed in the likes of Dracula and other creations of Hammer Horror Inc. & Warner Brothers. It was impossible to make him see reason. We ate baked potatoes on the fire, and argued whether Princess Anne had done the right thing by marrying Mark Phillips.

Bed at 2.30.

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