_. The first of bleedin' June. To the YP with my suitcase because after work I begin my pilgrimage to the shrine of St David of Stockport, patron saint of warm beer.
I phoned Mother this morning. We had a fiery exchange on my arrival home last night over the 'new' bed I have acquired from the Baker residence. She thinks it's an atrocious piece of furniture but I stood firm and demanded my right to keep it, pleading for my civil liberties, human rights, and all that. At times dear Mama plays President Brezhnev to my Russian Jew.
A hot day. Left at 5. Sat in the coach depot until my coach left at 6. By 8 I was languishing in the Hollywood with a glass of heavily polluted lager. Dave was in fine form. Joined by Billy and Garry. Poor Dave fancied a night on the town, but once again he was trapped in his own pub. Jim Glynn didn't look well.
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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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Monday June 10, 1985
Waltergarth Phil the Greek is 64 today. We left Samuel with his grandad and went to Skipton for an hour so. Market Day. Returned for lunch...
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Moorhouse Inn Cold and quiet. Dave Glynn phoned tonight but Ally and I were in the cellar, and when we phoned back Lily said that David has...
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Moorhouse Inn Snow has fallen through the night and the moor looks like Gstaad today. Ally took Samuel out to the bank and the market at 9....
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