Showing posts with label frank. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frank. Show all posts

20191016

Thursday September 13, 1979

_. Ally and I went out on the booze [again]. First to the Rose & Crown, then the Cow & Calf, and finally the White Horse in Bingley. Afterwards we ventured to Oakwood Hall. Very drunk. Consequently we became serious and nostalgic. Most odd, because we are seldom serious about anything. we spoke about poor Carole P, and John Pinder. Saw Peter, Frank, Gus and Chippy.______.
Chippy on the dance floor is like Lionel Blair. We are told that Peter and Chippy are heading off to Paris on Saturday for five or six days. Susan has taken this extraordinarily well.

Bed at 4:30 after heading back to Pine Tops.

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20191011

Friday September 7, 1979

Poor Uncle Harry. I knew he wouldn't last for long. He rose at noon and told Mama he was 'going to the bank', but he did not return until 3:30 and his balance was far from steady. When I arrived home at 5 I could sense an atmosphere. By 7 they were all gone for something called 'a basket meal'.

I opened a few bottles, switched on the stereo and waited for Alison. She arrived at 9 and we went to the White Cross where we were joined by Gus and Frank. Ally was sinking pints of lager and blackcurrant as if she'd spent eight days and nights in the Gobi Desert. In came Kathryn Chaffer with her husband Peter [Harrison?], and they came over for a chat. At 11, weighed down with bottles, we crossed the road to their little terrace house. They have only been married for five weeks, and so on entering the house we were required to remove our shoes ['the carpet is new']. We were also told that the wallpaper on the chimney breast cost £38. Yes £38 for just the one wall. Zzzzzzzz. Mrs Harrison proudly proclaimed: "the carpet just doesn't stop there ---- it goes all the way up the stairs". Isn't that what a stair carpet is supposed to do? Ally, so enthralled, fell asleep on the new sofa, snoring gently upon my shoulder. Kathryn and I did however see eye to eye on most things, including the monarchy. Peter, her husband, took me on one side to show me his Pirelli calendar collection. He seemed to be quite aroused by the crumpled 1973 edition.

We left the Chaffer residence at some obscure hour after consuming vast amounts of whisky. So much so that my chain of thought is now a rusting pile of scrap metal. We drove back to Bradford and fell in the door at something like 3am. Coffee and Emmerson, Lake and Palmer's 'Pictures at an Exhibition' playing full blast.

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Monday October 8, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Columbus Day, USA / Thanksgiving Day Canada Stand well back, I have a cold. Not a cold exactly, but my throat is dry, ...