Wake up at 10.30 to find John missing, Helen in Mama's bed, and Chris in Lynn's small hutch. Helen may be a nice travelling companion, but she makes a terrible breakfast friend - she doesn't realise it but she's extremely rude, and a terrible bore.
Very mad that the Gadsby bunch didn't send me a birthday card or any recognition of the fact that I have celebrated an anniversary of my birth. After all, it was dear Auntie Hilda who ran for several miles on the night of April 5, 1955 to inform Uncle Albert, Grandad and Granny that I had arrived upon this earth. Can you imagine Auntie Hilda running like hell down Stanningley Bottom? I bloody well can't.
At 8 o'clock I go see June at her sister's in Guiseley. We sit until 1.0am watchingt tv and making eyes at each other from opposite sides of the room. Honestly, she knows I'm captivated by her but it makes no difference whatsoever. See the Eurovision Song Contest. Ugh! Then a documenary on 'Count Dracula' - by now we're both hand in hand on the sofa, more of a measure against fear and anything to do with romance. Ring John at 1.15 who is entertaining Chris, Linda, Christina W and Peter in front of the tv. Hurry home. Everyone looks miserable as purity.
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Moorhouse Inn 2nd Sunday in Lent with dear Phyllis. Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of ... -
Moorhouse Inn Cold and quiet. Dave Glynn phoned tonight but Ally and I were in the cellar, and when we phoned back Lily said that David has...
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