I just don't know what to sling down on this page today. It was such a mundane, ordinary day that the very thought of filling an entire page is horrific.
Sat and watched the hot, over-worked TV until smoke bellowed forth from the appliance. Saw part III of 'Rebecca', but David G phoned in the middle of this & frightened me with news of a financial nature. "We've booked the Bournemouth trip" he casually said, "and can you bring me the £10 when you come over next week?" Oh God. Destitution once again.
I may have to abandon my Stockport trip planned for February 9 and just post the money to David instead. Blimey, I'm not John Paul Getty III.
To bed at 11:30 with a mug of Ovaltine. Just like a bloody old lady.
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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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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...

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Moorhouse Inn I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to...
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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...
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