_. John's 23rd birthday. Sat by the record player all day listening to my favourite tunes. Ally, Sue and Peter dropped in for lunch and I made the bacon sandwiches. God, it was good to see a few faces. It's no wonder that so many housewives turn to the bottle. Solitary confinement in the home must surely drive them over the top. Housework must only take a couple of hours. What do they do after that? Poor buggers. The nauseating DJs on Radio One don't help either.
To the YP at 5 and spent the evening with Gilberto - our man from Chile. No news. Everything quite dead. Home by taxi at 12. The driver had little to say. I thought we might become airborne as he had his foot flat down on the accelerator.
Ate like a horse and took up Adolf Hitler.
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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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Wednesday September 4, 1985
Moorhouse Inn Overcast - me and the weather. The alarm sounded at 7 but Ally switched it off for half an hour. Felt groggy and could have s...
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Moorhouse Inn 2nd Sunday in Lent with dear Phyllis. Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of ...
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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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