Showing posts with label schofield's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label schofield's. Show all posts

20131115

Thursday September 21, 1978

St Matthew

Pay day but all the money is gone before the packet has been open for ten minutes. I met Jacq at 1pm and we went shopping for a present for John, who is 22 on Monday. I bought him a pair of tartan socks from Schofield's, and a ridiculous, nauseating birthday card. Mum's wrapping all the gifts in one big parcel and despatching it to Stranraer in the morning.

Tonight I went to the Shoulder of Mutton, picked up on the way by Pete N with Dave W, Chippy and Gus. Dave says I look like Phil Lynott of 'Thin Lizzy' fame. Gus pokes fun at my woolly tie. Chippy makes his usual disgusting remarks. A sensational evening in the pub. At one point we had 25 pints of beer on the table because we purchased four rounds in one go because of the crowding and shortage of glasses.

Oakwood Hall wasn't enjoyable. I felt over nostalgic about the place. It was even worse when I wandered into the garden, because it reminded me of my life with Carole, and that seems such a long time ago. I put all this wallowing down to the fact I was too pissed up. Unhealthy really. Dave W picked up a nurse from Halifax, and Pete was chatting up a 15 year~old blond piece. I don't like to see him flirting with another woman when he's supposed to be attached to my sister.

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20121127

Thursday November 17, 1977

It's one o'clock on Friday morning so don't expect a John Evelyn-type of effort. I took a half day because Kathleen was getting on my nerves __________.

To pass the time whilst waiting for the start of hospital visiting time I went to look at the Stanley Spencer paintings in the Art Gallery and then, unimpressed and dejected, I went next door to study 'Burke's Presidential Families of the United States'. I laughed out loud, much to the horror of a sober gathering of students, on reading that Richard Nixon is descended from Edward III. (Aren't we all?)

Went to see Carole who wasn't quite as cheerful and looked depressed. She was wearing her engagement ring and so I presume that she and Fogarty have patched things up on Ward 26. Either that or he's given her the ring back because he thinks she's going to die. I gave her a Paddington Bear and left at 3.45. She likes me to visit. Her mum is sweet too.

Royal Albert teapot: £8.95.
Passing Schofield's (a shop) on the Headrow I spied a Royal Albert Old Country Roses teapot and forked out the £8.95 for it and carried it around town with it under my arm for a couple of hours. Got home at 5. Did nothing.

Drank a bottle of vino with Lynn and watched the Miss World competition. The title was won by Miss Bessie Braddock MP. Watched 'Rock Follies' which took me up to 12:30 when I plunged into the bath.

It's now 1:08am (Blimey, it's taken me 8 minutes to fill in this page).

-=-

20120130

Thursday February 3, 1977

Busy day at the YP again. At lunchtime I went to Schofield's to claim Mama's repaired coffee perculator which I carry off without having to pay anything. Look in Austick's and run my fingers through 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey. I shall have to buy it.

Ring Lynne. She's getting a cold, pneumonia, or something. I feel bored and utterly flattened. I fancy having a passionate, close, sexy romance with a lusty bombshell. Lynne just isn't up to it. Where will it all end?

Jim Callaghan: Scottish referendum
To Yeadon cinema with Lynne to see 'The Omen' (Yes, I've seen it before). It is good. Lee Remick especially. She goes off to Roundhay at 11pm in a gust of wind, hail and conglomoration of other elements.

Sit with a Scotch in front of the TV watching one of President Carter's fireside chats to the Universe from his White House parlour. Greasy little man. Never trust a president with gold fillings and Mohair pullovers that's what I say.

Quake in my socks at the late night news with Miss (Angela) Rippon. Evidently, Scotland, Wales and other bits of the UK are going to have one of those referendums in November to decide whether they want to get out of the Empire or not. We under-privileged English do not have a say in the matter. The tartan maniacs and mean leek-growing sods can pull out on us at any time but we English do not have the right to say whether we want  them to go or not.  Jim Callaghan really is the bloody limit. We should have a referendum asking the simple question: "Don't you think it's about time the Labour Government resigned? Answer 'Definately' or 'Yes'.

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20111119

Saturday November 20, 1976



All the makings of a good night but not as pleasant as the one I expected. After a day in Schofield's with Lynne we came back to Pine Tops for tea and then prepared for the evening's extravaganza. Down to the Hare at 8.30 with Sue, Peter N, John & Maria, Lynn, Dave, Richard & Mandy [Baker] &c. Chris Baker and his lady friend [Julie Harris] come in at 9 o'clock and we form a tight little community around the juke box. Lynne is sitting in the corner far from being a bundle of joy. An old lady before her time, I fear.

Oakwood Hall is thoroughly disastrous. Packed. Like a tin of sardines combined with the Black Hole of Calcutta and the Bethnal Green Underground accident of 1943. Really horrific. Tony is in with Stuart and Martyn but they disappear at some unearthly hour. Lynne doesn't like to see me dancing with my sister-in-law which is daft of her. I'm hardly likely to commit incest in the middle of a Bees Gees number before an uninvited audience of 500,000 people. But try telling that to Lynne Mather.

Better give Miss Phillips a mention on this, her birthday. Hello Carole.

Jive Talkin' The Bees Gees

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20101123

Wednesday May 26, 1976


Buy Helen and Graham a ridiculous pepper mill in Schofield's. Don't suppose they'll ever use the damned thing, but at least it's something.

March down the lane at 8.30pm with the pepper mill suitably wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. Contemplate my life.

Received another letter from Carole today begging me to go back out with her under any conditions. She says if she only sees me once a month she'll be happy. She included in the photographs we had taken at Blackpool at Easter. How can she expect me to go back to her? A fool she is, and a fool she'll always be if she continues with this silly craze.

Meet Helen at 9 o'clock and we walk across to the Malt Shovel for a quick drink. (A quick four or five drinks actually.) We talk about our lives and listening to Helen's sordid history over the past three years one realises how fantastic she must feel being settled at last. She tells me that everyone should have experience of living alone, away from home and parents, before marriage is contemplated. She says home life is cushy and people have no idea how to cope on their own until they do this. I disagree on this. Look at the happy marriages that have worked between people of no previous 'domesticated' experience? Walk her home at 11 o'clock after wishing her all the luck in the world. I take my leave and walk home. A mild, tranquil night.

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Sunday March 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn British Summer Time begins 3rd Sunday in Lent Bacon sandwiches and the Sunday Telegraph. Fuss about the Queen's visit to ...