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 david frost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label david frost. Show all posts
20110920
Wednesday October 27, 1976
To the Black .... Oh Sod it! Start again. To the Brown Cow in Horsforth at 8.15 with good old David L and eventually Marita, who arrives at 9.30, or so. Haven't seen David for months, and by all accounts the going is hard. He's returning to Gloucester on Friday in order to construct a duck pond, or something. A great chap is Dave. Marita is her usual self. Always on about old times but ________________.
Aren't I a bitter, twisted old git? Must be the influence of Lynne. Somehow I don't think Marita likes her at all. On arriving tonight she enquired: "Oh, how's whats her name ... Princess Anne .. getting on?" She refused even to say Lynne's name.
Home at 11 o'clock and watch the David Frost/Sir Harold Wilson quiz. I quite like Sir Harold even if he is a damned socialist. He's better than the current incumbent of 10, Downing Street, anyway. Audrey Callaghan is a nice bit of stuff though. Her tits! - Cor!! Jim sure knew what he was doing when he got her knickers off. Here endeth the crude, nasty bits for today.
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