Go down to Carole's at 8.15 and see that her Mum and Dad are still not on friendly terms with her. In fact, they didn't say much to me either.
We go across to the Hare & Hounds but I don't feel like drinking really. At 10.30 we are straight outside into the fog and I'm on a Bradford bus in next to no time. We arrange to meet tomorrow. I'm going to surprise her with a hair cut which I've kept secret. I'll be a bald, idiotic coote.
By the way, I journeyed home at 4.30 from Leeds with the Dowager Mrs Phillips, mother of Carole's dad. She is a bit of a sweet old thing, and seems to be a bit of a ditherer. I find it hard to believe that she's the ogre that Carole makes her out to be. Mind you, you can't tell me about monstrous grandparents. I had my share with Mr X, but I suppose they are never the same to outsiders. Nasty and monstrous grandparents are like sweet old things when outsiders are anywhere near. That is the frustration of them.
Home in the fog before 11pm.
-==-
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 ...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Saturday September 28, 1985
South Wood Farm, Cotleigh, Devon South Wood Farm. Out of bed bright and early. Another sunny day. What a week we have had. Ally did the pac...

-
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...
-
Moorhouse Inn I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to...
No comments:
Post a Comment