Whit Sunday. Wake up at 10 o'clock and have a pint of orange juice in bed with the Sunday Express and the Sunday Mirror. The news content in these great newspapers is so exciting that I fall into a state of unconsciousness until 1 o'clock. Leap out of bed and ring Lynne. She is in good spirits and holds no grudges about refusing to let her bring me home at 3.30am. I refuse to have women travelling about at the crack of dawn at my beck and call. She says Peter's been ill all night and he comes on the line to tell me it must have been the food he ate. I agree because Peter never drinks vast amounts of alcohol.
Mum and Lynn are on the lawn and I go outside to investigate. It is very warm and pleasant and I join them in deckchairs and devour cheese and biscuits.
Lynne comes round at 2 o'clock and the two of us go to the Old Ball cricket ground to see the Evening Post All-Stars play cricket. Norman Hunter (ex Leeds Utd) is there and a few Yorkshire cricketers play, but after half an hour we tire of it. We don't like watching the cricket and are too afraid to lie down in the sun. A cricket ball in the back of the throat isn't something I rellish. Lynne suggests going to Bolton Abbey but we decide it will be too busy. She then suggests going down to the river at Arthington for the afternoon and who am I to disagree? We spend a couple of hours on a sandy beach-like bank on the Wharfe. A fantastic, tranquil afternoon, and I feel ashamed that I ever finished with Lynne in the first place. She looks so sophisticated with her hair in a bun and wearing large sun-glasses. In fact she's beautiful. I kept looking at her and smiling broadly as we were driving along _______________. It was such a relief to be able to share a joke with a girl of some intelligence. Carole was always so dull and half-witted. She brings me home at 5.30 and I see Ernest Blackwell watching us as we kiss in the car. I say I will ring her during the week when I have found some money and she smiles sweetly. God. I've only been on the open market since May 4, and already I'm getting involved. Am I mad?
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