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 ...
20100615
Wednesday December 3, 1975
The weather was a bit improved today. Basil, the postman, had to admit the the sunrise was one of the best he's ever seen.
I propelled myself in a Leeds direction by train this morning. Jim Rawnsley must have died or something because I haven't laid eyes on him since Friday. Not to worry. He was old anyway.
I met Douglas, from next door, at the station and remind him of our boozing date at 1 o'clock. He says he'll come, but doesn't look all that certain.
Meet Dave outside the Ostlers at 1 o'clock and he says that Douglas isn't coming. After one drink we decide to go round the shops and look for Lynn's present. Dave kept drifting towards windows full of engagement rings, and I kept having to bring the poor lad back to his senses. However, when the day eventually dawns when he and Lynn want to make fools of themselves at the altar I certainly won't haul him away from the ring shops because he will make a good brother-in-law. Do I hear wedding bells? (I know you're all bloody sick of me throwing in that cliche, so why don't any of you have the guts to admit it?)
At home tonight I busy myself industriously. Press trousers by the score and take up the hem (of a pair of trousers). Carole rang at least three times (bless her) and I am disturbed to hear that her brother has hit her and given her a bruising. The swine will feel the full weight of my fist in his throat if he does so much as raise his fist in her direction again. These 16 year-old adolescents want watching good and proper.
I sit down and watch the 10 o'clock news on ITV which is appallingly done (or is it apallingly?) It was badly done anyway. It may sound snobbish and 'Olde Worlde' but it takes a lot to beat the good old BBC. I could read the news better than Reginald Bosanquet and Sandy Gall put together, and in saying that I'm insulting myself really. John Snagge would turn in his grave if he were dead.
-==-
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Wednesday May 9, 1984
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, &c Still dull outside. Who cares? Our alarm clock is on the blink and refuses to sound off. Samuel laid patiently...
-
5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford Samuel has a hairy back and shoulders, you know. I have to record these things because in ten years ...
-
3rd Sunday after Epiphany 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford Baby slept until 6am which is amazing. Ally however woke at three and then...
No comments:
Post a Comment