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 pauline barlow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pauline barlow. Show all posts
20090505
Monday October 15, 1973
Crawl out of my lovely warm bed at 8.10am. Lynn is yelling at me to get up. I stagger downstairs and eat my breakfast wondering where Mother can be. At 8.30 I discover, to my surprise, that she's in bed with some sort of illness - upset tummy. Leave for school on the 9 o'clock 55.
The weather is lousy once again and by the time I arrive at school I am rather wet. I sit all day with Christine and Glynnis Margerison - a plain but hilarious girl.
In Economics Ayling carries on about people who think that 'the Economist magazine is politically biased.' Poor Pauline Barlow realised he was getting at her. Such a laugh. But the bugger cannot con me. We all know that 'The Economist' is a fascist rag.
During the lesson I speak to Miss Helen Taylor (the girl who is crazy about me and I apologise for the change in ink colour). She says that the Wyndham-Logg memoirs are 'very amusing'. I don't know why, but the word amusing immediately prints onto my mind the image of Queen Victoria. 'Amusing' is such a very middle-class word. I would have preferred Miss Taylor to have said 'very funny', or something equally amusing.
Later. See tv until 11.30. Bed at a quarter to 12. Arrgghh! Blimey O'Reilly! Chris rang twice. At the second call be brought tidings of a spine-chilling nature.__________________.
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