I have been watching a TV programme about Vietnam and I must say that it seems to be a very boring place these days. Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City, as it now is, was once Asias answer to Weston~super~Mare, with strip~tease joints on every street corner and with all night hot and cold running tarts. Sadly, it now resembles a Suffolk village hamlet with nothing but rice and with Methodist ministers everywhere. President Carter really should do something about it. Perhaps I should drop him a line?
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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 ...
Showing posts with label Ho Chi Minh city. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ho Chi Minh city. Show all posts
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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...