Thursday October 30, 1975

Took one and a half hours for my lunch today, and went to the hairdresser in the Empire Arcade for a shearing session. I emerged 30 minutes later looking considerably cropped, but feel a good deal better. My ears will certainly feel the pinch in all this fog, buit I hope it won't be with us for much longer (the fog - not my ears). I also laid possession to a blue cardigan with a zip-up front and a pair of pale blue trousers which drained me of £17 in all! The thought is unbearable and nauseating.

Leave work at 5pm and journey home with British Rail for a change. It's a good deal faster than by bus, and what's the point in having to stand all the way as far as Horsforth in a smoke-filled contraption when it's just as easy to rocket straight home in a fast moving train of the '70s. (No, I'm not taking up a job as publicity officer for British Rail. I wouldn't mind Richard Marsh's job though).

Mum likes my hair, and I notice that Dad's is shorter round the ears. They went to view the Craven Heifer this afternoon and said it was good except that ________.All they need now is a loan from the Yorkshire Bank.

At 8.30 I met Carole off her bus at the foot of the lane, and we walked down to the Yorkshire Rose for a quick one. The night is clear and crisp and we argued like hell about nothing in particular. After having a 'noisy' drink we walk back up the lane and watch Harold Macmillan on TV. He's a brilliant old boy and should still be leading the Tory party if you ask me. Margaret Thatcher is useless.

Carole and I just haven't got on this evening. Why I do not know. She's obviously mad about something, but she never tells me anything.

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