All day at the YP. Not really eventful.
Minus Christine Mary Braithwaite and Christopher Holland Ratcliffe, who are either going to a party or something at Wakefield Theatre Club, or something equally nauseating. Spend most of the night with Christine Dibb, who is on her usual witty form. Misses White and Smith are also with us - the younger Miss Smith seems to be minus her lover and no doubt it's on the rocks - or at least we hope so.
John buggers off with Andy at 10.15 and leaves me alone with Laura, the two Christines and Carol. Leave the Hare with Laura at about 11 and she kicks Dibb and me out of the car at the bottom of the lane. I don't have a coat and nearly perish with the cold. Christine came in for coffee and we joined Lynn and Dave in front of the television. A bloody awful film dominates the screen so I retreat into my book 'Edward VII'.
Mummy and Daddy are home from a party at the Saxtons with tales of drunkenness and debauchery. The host, Geoff Saxton, diid his usual 'dead man lying on the floor' routine, and threw up later all over the kitchen, which can't have been a particularly pleasant sight.
-==-
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 wakefield theatre club. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wakefield theatre club. Show all posts
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Monday October 14, 1985
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Columbus Day, USA - Thanksgiving Day Canada Old Red Lion. A very silly day. I climbed out of bed very early leaving my...

-
Moorhouse Inn I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to...
-
I have just been summoned to thee bathroom by Susie who is sitting in a hot bath in complete darkness. "Michael, the bulb's just go...