Glorious pay day once again. God knows what I'd do, or where I'd be, if that little bundle of notes wasn't thrust upon me once a week in the usual manner.
Marita rings at about 7 and says she's bored and gives me the usual stories about how sickened off she is lately, &c. I immediately leap to her rescue by saying 'we really ought to go out for a few drinks' or words to that effect. She agrees. Picking me up at 8 we go down to the Fox at Menston. I vowed never to darken the doorstep of that hostelry again following an incident therein the other week involving Helen and Miss Dibb. However, Marita likes it, so who cares? She informs me, whilst slumped over her tonic water, that Our Lady of Bramhope is no longer a spoken for person. My heart leaps at the thought of darling Denise being once again in our midst and tears of joy fell into my ale at Marita's tale of cruelty and misery. Ade, for all his good points, dealt irreparable blows to dearest Denise, and for that alone he deserves all the evils that will surely come to him.
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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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Monday June 10, 1985
Waltergarth Phil the Greek is 64 today. We left Samuel with his grandad and went to Skipton for an hour so. Market Day. Returned for lunch...
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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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Moorhouse Inn Snow has fallen through the night and the moor looks like Gstaad today. Ally took Samuel out to the bank and the market at 9....
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