_. To Bingley Christmas shopping this morning.
Lazenby's party at Park Rd. Ally and I began at the New Inn, packed with juveniles covered in shaving foam and behaving like third formers. Come to think of it, I'm usually covered in shaving foam and behaving like a third former which means a) I'm getting old, b) I'm out of shaving foam, or c) I've stopped shaving.
Previously in the day Ally and I joined Mama and Papa at Sue and Pete's for drinks at West End Terrace. [I have made a hash of today's journal entry. It's all back to front and upside down].
Needless to say, Lazenby's party was tremendous. Not as packed as last year, but excellent all the same. Bob Schofield insisted on bringing his dog, and a huge joint of roast beef in garlic appeared. Ally was certain that an old friend of mine [who I only tend to see once a year on this festive night] is in fact the Yorkshire Ripper. Jack [the Ripper] has done for Yorkshire what Leonard Cheshire did for Nagasaki.
Home at almost 8am. Ally was exhausted, even tearful.
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