Moorhouse Inn
The miners strike has fizzled out after a futile year and they have gone back to work, on bended knees. Serves 'em right.
Driving lesson at 9. Ally got a helper in the kitchen today. She's called Terry (Teresa), one of the nice lounge customers.
Sir Iain Moncreiffe of that Ilk has joined the choir invisible. Succeeded in the baronetcy by Lord Erroll and in the clan chieftainship by his second son the Hon Peregrine. Only last month Sir Iain was accused of having made vulgar suggestions to the dear prime minister in the Palace of Holyroodhouse, which he fervently denied.
Jill and Tim called in at 8 for half an hour. It was Andy Bowden's penultimate session. At 11 we found ourselves continuing in the revelry and the three of us, Andy and Ally and I hit the Diet Pils with a vengeance. It was soon 4:14am and we were pissed as arseholes. Andy is a stimulating friend.
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