St. Swithun's Day. It didn't rain in Ibiza. In fact, from the look of things I don't think it has rained here for years. Never before have I suffered so much from the heat. Even Dave G, who is terribly susceptible to the sun, is in a better state than me.
Have I mentioned that topless bathers are everywhere this year? A few dropped their bikini tops last year but this year it's easier to count the ladies with tops on rather than off. Sue, British to the end, absolutely refused to discard any essential items of clothing, and says she's proud of the fact she isn't a sheep. However, some of the females are ghastly and would look much better covered up. Chippy is very frustrated because he hasn't managed to get his end away with abybody. He says he's been out~classed by the jet~setters. Anyone with such a low opinion of themselves, and with such a defeatist attitude, doesn't deserve to get anywhere.
-=-
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 topless bathers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label topless bathers. Show all posts
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Saturday August 31, 1985
Moorhouse Inn Hilda: blue. Wet day. The marriage of Diane Gadsby and Paul Anthony Edwards at Pudsey St Lawrence. Ally went off at 8:30am to...

-
Moorhouse Inn 2nd Sunday in Lent with dear Phyllis. Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of ...
-
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...