My 28th birthday. Snow on the ground, but sunshine. We had a bad night in bed and I hardly slept a wink. Nylon sheets are the worst thing since sackcloth and ashes. We slid around like Torvill & Dean. Eggs and bacon. Mum gave me a card and £5. They came into the bedroom singing 'Happy Birthday' Dad playing the spoons like an old music hall act. At 12 we went into Settle. It's market day and seething. Saw Alan Bennett, the playwright, who came so close I could have reached out and touched him in ladies underwear. The ladies underwear stall at the open air market that is. We fell into the Royal Oak to celebrate the commencement of my 29th year. The place was doing a roaring trade. Ally say eyeing the bar staff. She is saddened because my presents are at home. Things like that do not worry me. We said our goodbyes and returned to Bradford. Karen and Steve are great fun. We drove past the house in Haworth Road where, Steve says, a woman groped with his genitalia, in 1975. We collapsed. Ally gave me a card full of beautiful verse she had found in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations. Socks, underwear, a book on home wine making, and a pullover, but says I can have the main present, an Olympus Trip 35mm camera next week. Went into a coma in the bath, and couldn't get out to speak to Dave G who phoned at 9. In bed for 9:30.
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