_. This morning Ally felt like death. I was generally boisterous. Neither did I suffer throughout the day, and praised the Almighty for my safe keeping.
Out at 12 with Sarah to Len's Bar. Huddled together in the gloom on a Chesterfield sofa. I arrived home at 6 raring to go, but Sue & Pete plead poverty, and so we decided to stay in. Something is wrong with the telly. Everything and everyone looks a vile shade of green. Kenneth Kendall, reading the news, looked like a Martian. I lay on the sofa, and slipped into a coma, with an Agatha Christie novel covering my Adonis features.
-=-
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 ...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
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...
-
Moorhouse Inn 2nd Sunday in Lent with dear Phyllis. Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of ...
-
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...
No comments:
Post a Comment