_. An evening of activity. I ransacked my bedroom and painted a wall. It has been green since September 18, 1976. This bedroom has been a wonderful refuge for me down the years since John left home and I was allotted this excuse for a cupboard. Often I wake up bathed in a deep green light, like Neptune. Slapping white paint over the emerald glow wasn't as difficult as I imagined it would be. Neither did it jerk the heart strings. Within a matter of minutes my watery ocean-like room was transformed into something monastic. The green aqua effect has down the years resulted in me taking on a fish-like capacity for drink. Perhaps now I'll become more like St Francis of Assisi.
Susan and Peter have almost pulled it off. Buying a house that is. Their new home is to be at 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley. Spooky that. She was born at number 23, Market Square.
Slept downstairs like a Kampuchean refugee because of the wet paint.
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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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