Tuesday March 23, 1976

Go to Guiseley Library and enroll once more. I don't think I've been near a library in two years. How I have let my education slip. Why, at one time I could reel off the main achievements of Gladstone's first, second and third ministries, but now I cannot even tell you his christian name. Oh, go on then, it's William Ewart. His foreign policy was always weak, if my memory serves me correctly, and Ireland tended to get him down, but what his achievement were remain blanked from my mind.

Blimey, the sight of all those familiar, ancient library book shelves brought a lump to my throat. Memories of adolescence come flooding back. The days of Anne Greep and Lynn in hysterics; me with grazed knees and only a shadow of the handsome bastard I am in this year of Grace; and many more reflections upon which further deliberation would render this publication unsatisfactory for family reading. I take out a couple of P.G. Wodehouse novels and also collected some for Mum. She likes a good book at bedtime too.

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