Feeling terrible. Rains solidly all day. Cold worsening. I put a large shot of rum in my flask and battle through nine hours of painting garage doors, three handkerchiefs and two phensic tablets.
So glad to be home at 5.30.
June rings at 7. So wonderful to hear her voice again. Fortunately she doesn't want to go out tonight - I am in no fit state. We decide to leave it until Friday evening.
See 'Coronation Street'. Bed 10.30. This cold ought to have cleared by tomorrow.
--==--
Saturday March 21, 1987
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ As you have no doubt fathomed by now our plans to move from the Moorhouse have grounded on the rocks of apath...
No comments:
Post a Comment