Busy day. The bloody telephone didn't cease ringing all day. Nothing of interest to say, but I must say something because it's hardly proper to leave blank pages when ones diary is to consitute a major contribution to the historical, social, and literary knowledge of this, the 20th century. OK, we all agree I'm no Samuel Pepys, or John Evelyn or even 'Chips' Channon, but what do you expect from a comprehensive school educated creature who never set foot in Harrow or had Princess Marina for a godmother?
See TV and Monty Python. Nothing of vital interest. So I'll be saying goodnight to you all. I write this journal as though I'm addressing a party of OAPs at the local Darby & Joan. But it's not my fault.
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Showing posts with label chips channon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chips channon. Show all posts
20091212
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Saturday February 21, 1987
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ Margaret Rushton, our absentee barmaid, graced our abode with her presence at luncheon. Her mother is flat ou...
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Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ Stock take at 10am. A £30 deficit. No staff. Sir John Colville's book came in the post, and I flicked thr...
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Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ 5th Sunday after Trinity Bessie phoned. Andrew and Lorraine are to live in un-marital bliss in a £29,000 mais...