Saturday December 27, 1975

A wonderful day. Dave B wakes me at 11.10 with yells of horror. I think he had to dance about on my bed before any signs of life were evident. Mum makes us toast for breakfast and Lynn devours most of it, along with gallons of tea.

I worry about Carole, who may well be still laid indisposed with her 'ailment', and I fear she may be unable to make the arduous venture to the coast.

At 12 o'clock Lynn, Dave and myself arrive at Oakridge Hall where we are entertained by the sight of Lady Phillips hanging out her washing. Carole is boisterous and looking fit and refuses any bodily aid whilst alighting into Mr Baker's automobile.

After a pleasant journey lasting approximately two hours we arrive in Scarborough. A breezy, fresh and highly humorous couple of hours follow, the highlights of which I will attempt to outline: a passionate photographic session on the beach was followed by a disgusting scene in a 'candy floss store' where we watched, in horror, as a filthy salesman attempted to clean out his candy floss machine with an old cloth he'd just used on the toilets. The man had filthy layered paws. A blood curdling incident followed in a hotel where Carole shared a teapot of tea with me and proceeded to fall, head long, down a flight of stairs whilst visiting the ladies loo. After this we moved on to Whitby. To say it is a ghost town would be an understatement. The only person we did see in that quaint harbour town was an aged old lady whom Carole thought might be a witch.

We then ventured homeward looking for fish and chips without much success. We ended up at a pub in Collingham where we ate piles of scampi and swilled cinzano. Home at 11 to watch a Frankenstein epic.

Mum's hurt her foot and think she may have broken a bone or something.

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