Showing posts with label typing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label typing. Show all posts

20121209

Wednesday December 7, 1977

Snow upon snow. A thick, white layer everywhere.

Carole phoned me at 5:00pm to thank me for the letter. She says she's probably coming home on Friday. I'm elated. ____________. My letter must have been sentimental. It's made her realise just what I'm thinking. I put Mum on and they chatted for ages.______________. Today I wrote to Kathryn (Young) and Christine. Dad's typewriter in the house prompted this industriousness.

It's becoming very 'Christmasy' you know. Mum is playing 'The Floral Dance' by the Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band on the record player and the combination of this, the weather, and general cheer will undoubtedly be confusing Santa into coming early.

I have laid hands on a pair of cord trousers from Mum's catalogue. Black ones - very nice too.

-=-

Saturday May 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Poor Diana Dors has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. Aged 52, she has suffered from cancer. We laz...