Showing posts with label sir john mills. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sir john mills. Show all posts

20131129

Saturday November 4, 1978

Sun rises 06:59 Sun sets 16:29

Up at 9:30 and after breakfast went to Lawn Road with Mum & Dad. Lynn was at the hairdressers and Dave, Dad and I made some structural alterations to the residence whilst Mama got a blazing fire going. Dad and Dave did some work putting the kitchen door into position and I painted everything in sight.

Lynn came in like a Goddess at 12 and immediately dragged Mum off into Burley. They staggered back a couple of hours later quite sozzled. They informed us that they'd met a man called Gordon, suffering from Parkinson's Disease, who would be dropping in on us later with a selection of bottles of his home~brewed cider. A likely story.

Jacq came at 2:30 and we had a good lunch. I'm surprised the ladies managed to cook it. Javq was wearing a new pink creation.

At 4 Mum and Dad left and we sat listening to music. Lynn was pissed and really in her element. At 6:30 we, the four of us, got a bus to Guiseley with every intention of attending John Little's bonfire at Green Bottom School, but on arriving we were told the entry fee was £1.75 per family. Lynn told the bemused man on the desk that we are not actually a family, but that we do all love one another.

We walked through the Bonfire night smoke and smog, and baked potato fumes to the White Swan at Yeadon. Lynn and Dave had come out without any cash and felt guilty about being parasites on their elder brother and benefactor. We had a few drinks and inspected the bonfire there. What has become of Bonfire Night? Am I getting old so that I don't see or observe the things that children delight in any more? I hope not. The days of the one penny (old money) banger are gone forever.

At 10 we went for a bus back to Burley and waiting at the bus stop for an hour. It was like a scene from a Greek tragedy and to be honest it made the whole evening. Lynn carrying on like Sarah Bernhardt. We laughed and joked ridiculously to the extent that the traffic was swerving to avoid us. Elderly ladies were peeping at us from bedroom windows.

A bus came at 11 and we headed back to Burley. Bit of an anti-climax really. Sandwiches, coffee and a 1943 John Mills film isn't exactly what I call a proper Saturday night. I suppose it cannot be a riot every week.

Lynn and Dave went off to bed before John Mills, in his submarine, had the time to sink the Brandenberg, and I fell asleep. Jacq and I 'kipped' on the sitting room floor with our heads pointing towards the dying fire embers. _______.

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20091211

Monday November 25, 1974


Tiring day. Awful weather & a cloud of utter misery hangs over everything. Kathleen celebrates her birthday, which was yesterday, with doughnuts and cream buns with nuts on top, &c. Nothing else of interest at work and arrive home at 6.30 in a raging mood about being held up in the Leeds traffic. All the buses were full, and chaos reigned everywhere.

Laze around in front of the TV all evening. See 'The Family Way' Starring Hayley Mills and John Mills, and it proves to be a 'fabulous' film. Fabulous appears in inverted commas because it's such a Judith-Rushworth-type word that no one could possibly say in a serious vein. 'Fab' went out with flower power, cow bells and the Beatles. But seriously, the film was a gem.

Mum and Dad go to the pub and don't come back until 11.30. Nothing fantastic in the news. Mr Jenkins has banned the Irish Republican Army & all other organisations of the same type, but didn't do anything really powerful to deal with the terrorists. Banning the IRA won't matter one bit - are the IRA going to mind being illegal? I think not. Nothing has changed. Also U Thant, the United Nations' boss from 1961 to 1971 has died in New York. I can't say I ever knew who he actually was, but the name sticks out as being a leading one in the 1960s. Bedat nearly 12.

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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...