OK, so its the first of August. I don't see why that should signify a sudden flurry of the written word herein. If you must know, I'm feeling remarkably lazy, and not at all creative. Bye, bye.
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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 august. Show all posts
Showing posts with label august. Show all posts
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Saturday September 14, 1985
Moorhouse Inn New Moon It was an early rise because of our darling son and heir, who had no qualms about getting his drunken Papa out of be...
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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...