_. Margaret and Jim came here this evening instead of the traditional Thursday because they are venturing to Redcar tomorrow. They do not enthuse about the prospects of a wet day at the races. I bet they end up at the White Cross at lunch time.
I have neglected my royal deliberations recently. What with the Queen's victorious visit to Zambia and the escapades of the Prince of Wales and Prince Andrew with the Guinness sisters I have had ample opportunity to lecture, but have held back. You must forgive this boring patch.
I retired to bed at 12 full to bursting with pork pies and salad sandwiches. I will resemble Orson Welles before long.
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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 salad sandwiches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label salad sandwiches. Show all posts
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Saturday September 7, 1985
Moorhouse Inn Ally was in a collapsed state all day and did her 'Sleeping Beauty' routine on me. Poor Samuel was motherless. A happ...

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Moorhouse Inn 2nd Sunday in Lent with dear Phyllis. Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of ...
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Moorhouse Inn Cold and quiet. Dave Glynn phoned tonight but Ally and I were in the cellar, and when we phoned back Lily said that David has...