Conversion of St. Paul.
No holiday news today because the magical Michelle is taking a day off. I spoke to Denise on the blower, a very brief conversation, because she was being stampeded under foot by milling, holiday-crazed Bradford folk.
I am battling along with 'Whose Body?' by Miss Sayers. I've glanced at Edward VI too.
Dad phoned John and Sheila because they are supposed to be heading for a new life in the Canaries tomorrow, but they've postponed their departure for a fortnight. Is he going to go at all? One certainly wonders. We have heard of great prospects before regarding Uncle John. He is however, a wonderful guy.
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Showing posts with label st paul. Show all posts
Showing posts with label st paul. Show all posts
20130110
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Friday October 4, 1985
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds The Moorhouse Now we are back it's as if we have never been away. Nobody ever tells us anything about the activiti...
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Moorhouse Inn I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to...
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Quinquagesima. By 4am only Judith, Kathryn and I are conscious. But when we decided to call it a day I realised with horror that my jacket a...