Showing posts with label triple echo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label triple echo. Show all posts

20130103

Tuesday January 10, 1978

Snow today. The first of the year. By lunchtime in Leeds though it was quite free of abominable white flakes and a blustery wind blew instead.

Bumped into Sharon and Susan Kirk in town. They are the granddaughters of my grandmother's sister, Aunt Annie Kirk. Sharon I have always liked and she offers to give me a lift home from Leeds any time I may need one. She works for the Civil Service at Darley House. She mentioned the photos I took of Auntie Annie & Uncle John kissing last month.

This evening Martyn called in at 6:30 for an hour and took away the ring which Uncle Harry gave me. It needs repairing. The ring originally belonged to my great-grandfather, John Rhodes, who was given it on his 21st birthday, in June, 1887. Martyn's going to see what he can do to restore it to its former glory.

Hey, I have mentioned that Naomi's invited me to her 21st birthday party on January 28? Yes, she gave me the invitation on Friday. I really like Naomi more and more. You could put the two of us in a boat and dump us in the mid Atlantic and I'd be quite happy.

I have decided that, out of protest, I definitely now, or in future, won't read a book on King James II. The barbarous way he butchered the Duke of Monmouth and his supporters nauseates me. Had I been living in 1685 I'd have been out on Hawksworth Lane yelling for 'Good King Monmouth'. God Rest his Soul.

Prince Andrew is escorting a fellow inmate from his school (Gordonstoun) to Sandringham where the Royal Family have been holidaying. The girl is Kirsty Richmond, a 17 year-old, and the opinion of the Daily Mail is that HRH is taking after his big brother. 1978 is going to be the year in which Prince Andrew makes his debut in the Press as a whoring, wenching Casanova. As if we don't have enough of this with the Prince of Wales and Prince Michael. The poor boy will have this sort of intrusion every time he's seen within a hundred yards radius of a female - until the day he marries. Poor soul, and even after he marries the rumours and stories will go on.

Saw a Glenda Jackson film based on a book by H.E. Bates and retired at 1:00.


Thursday April 12, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn I played Hercules Poirot tonight and stood at the bar in the tap room mixing with the Hunslet folk and observing the staff. T...