Back to the YP. Pay day. It has been like a dream missing one full week of the general election campaign. Let us hope and pray that Mr Callagas is not re-elected next week. Labour until 1984 would just about finish us all off. We are already on a par with Mozambique, and I do suppose that the populace of the Spanish Sahara are living in opulence in comparison with the starving masses of Bradford and the industrial north. Margaret Hilda (Thatcher) will be our salvation.
I fully intended staying at home tonight but Chippy phoned at 7:30 and I gave in. I do give in very easily when pleasure is dangled like a carrot before my beady, donkey-like eyes.
Out to the Shoulder at 8:15. Micky H_____ is out too but he leaves at 9:30 to go commit adultery. This is terrible. His poor wife is expecting a baby in May. On to the White Cross and the Commercial. I wasn't in the mood for the Elma, and we all realised this was a mistake, so we moved on to Oakwood Hall. Bought Dave W his entry in and his booze all night. Got drunk. Met Steve Hudson and my 'Oakwood girl' Sarah. Home for cheese on toast and coffee at about 2am.
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Monday March 2, 1987
Moorhouse Inn Pig & Whistle. Sunshine, but windy. To Scunthorpe after breakfast to the Pig and Whistle. We were very impressed. Like th...
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Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ Stock take at 10am. A £30 deficit. No staff. Sir John Colville's book came in the post, and I flicked thr...
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Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ Margaret Rushton, our absentee barmaid, graced our abode with her presence at luncheon. Her mother is flat ou...
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