Busy day. The bloody telephone didn't cease ringing all day. Nothing of interest to say, but I must say something because it's hardly proper to leave blank pages when ones diary is to consitute a major contribution to the historical, social, and literary knowledge of this, the 20th century. OK, we all agree I'm no Samuel Pepys, or John Evelyn or even 'Chips' Channon, but what do you expect from a comprehensive school educated creature who never set foot in Harrow or had Princess Marina for a godmother?
See TV and Monty Python. Nothing of vital interest. So I'll be saying goodnight to you all. I write this journal as though I'm addressing a party of OAPs at the local Darby & Joan. But it's not my fault.
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The lounge bar: carry-out jugs Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11 Sunshine. L. Gledhill was here for 10 o'clock. He breezed in very cheerful and i... -
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11 Up at 6:44, or at least awake.Went down to clear the beer lines and left Ally with cooing Samuel. Blossom looked a ...
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