Christmas Day Bank Holiday {Scotland}
Still full of cold. Merry Christmas. JPH nipped my nose and it bled. Eeek. Sad news. John's old work~mate, Terry Mellors, was killed in a road accident on Friday, and John was close to bursting into tears when Dad told him at lunchtime. He just sad clutching one of his Christmas presents, looking very pale.
We ate at 4:30 and then collapsed. John and Maria {who had left for Molly & Jim's at about 4:30} came back at 10pm dressed as Scottish punks ~ John in a MacGregor tartan kilt. They danced to Kenneth McKellar records over a pair of crossed walking sticks in the centre of the sitting room. We all remarked afterwards that John would never have done such a thing just a few years ago. He's never been noted for outrageous behaviour.
Maria was bedecked like a Christmas tree with gaily painted balls hanging from her ears.
The house reeks of eucalyptus (sic)
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The journal of a Yorkshire lad from the age of 17 in 1973 through several decades .... Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
Showing posts with label tartan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tartan. Show all posts
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