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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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 st paul. Show all posts
Showing posts with label st paul. Show all posts
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Saturday September 28, 1985
South Wood Farm, Cotleigh, Devon South Wood Farm. Out of bed bright and early. Another sunny day. What a week we have had. Ally did the pac...

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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...
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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...