The noisy bloody workmen are making life unbearable. However, I'm not going to dwell upon it and I'll turn to the joys of Spring instead.
I despatched a letter to Christine at lunchtime, and the only conclusion that I can draw is that it must be love. Christopher Ratcliffe will have to go. I can't help smiling at the printed heading on the diary page for Christine's birthday - March 16 - PASSION SUNDAY! Rather appropriate really. Let us hope that the day lives up to its name.
My financial situation isn't all that good on my arrival home and I decide to stay in. However, John is close at hand with his wallet and I end up propping up the juke box in the Hare & Hounds as though I do it every day (er, you do). Quite an uneventful evening really & come home with my chauffeur at kicking out time.
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The journal of a Yorkshire lad from the age of 17 in 1973 through several decades .... Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
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Wednesday October 9, 1985
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Slept until 8:30 when the Schweppes delivery man woke us. Much chaos. To market after a frugal breakfast. Ally explain...

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Moorhouse Inn I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to...
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Quinquagesima. By 4am only Judith, Kathryn and I are conscious. But when we decided to call it a day I realised with horror that my jacket a...
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