Watched David Essex in "That'll Be The Day" - an appalling film though Ringo Starr was amusing. To bed afterwards.
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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 ...
Watched David Essex in "That'll Be The Day" - an appalling film though Ringo Starr was amusing. To bed afterwards.
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Bad head. Gordon [Linacre?] gave me £50 for my family tree, and I cashed it seconds later. Went out looking for fennel coloured paint without success. Sat in my usual place in Park Sq eating a salmon and cucumber sandwich. I pass many solitary lunch hours in the park. I am basically a solitary person. Ally is the only person with whom I can relax. Thank God I found her.
John left for Stranaer this evening with a car boot full of presents for the children. He showed us a large, green plastic 'Incredible Hulk' for JPH.
Home at 6 and went to bed at 7 after eating liver cooked in sherry. I set the alarm and got up at 9:30, but Ally opted to remain in the sack. Watched a 1972 horror film which I first saw with Dave L and Harry back in my Benton Park days, at a late night showing at Yeadon cinema. Bed after 1. Ally warm like toast.
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Bought four books for a quid. Not bad. I bumped into Karen in town and mentioned the fact that we have a cellar full of ale. She and Steve arrived at 8. She is taking her miscarriage as one would expect. She cannot now become pregnant before Christmas and Steve is now having to resort to the use of contraceptives. They are a very open couple. No secrets. We listened to music and had a curry from over the road. We sat until after 2am. Pissed up. _________.
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Half day. Paper things. John came and laid tiles. He's seeing Janette at the weekend . _________. Ally was sat giggling at the Miss UK beauty competition on TV. The IRA managed to disrupt the proceedings, I believe. John went off at 11. To bed.
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You can always tell when I'm writing pissed, can't you? YP. Fucking rubbish. Why am I still there? Never mind.
I was painting in the cellar at 6:30 when Mum phoned to say that Maria gave birth to a daughter this morning at 10:00am weighing 6lb and the odd ounce. Hannah is the name. __________.
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11th Sunday after Trinity
John came and boxed in the stray pipes, and found a good many faults with our £1300 kitchen. Joiners tend to do this with work from other tradesmen. Back to Pine Tops for 6pm. Dinner. Sheep and Yorkshire puddings. Fun. Wine. John drove us home with a Christmas tree [?]
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We went out looking for ironing boards and general things for the house. Saw curtain material, and found a carpet [pale green] for £2.80, or £280, more likely. Home jaded. TV. Bed.
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The new cooker works. Yorkshire puddings tonight. Joyful feelings in the kitchen. Russell Harty on TV. Later, Alfred Hitchcock. Baked bread, yes bread.
New books arrived. Picasso, Dali and Surrealism.
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Half day. Bought tiles and [wall]paper at Fads. Returned to home base. The little kitchen erector comes from Barnsley, or a place three miles therefrom, and immediately he warmed to my south Yorkshire connections. Made tea. The kitchen man finished at 3. Ally and I dined at home. Actually we had fish and chips.
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Kitchen renovations Day 3. We came home from work, changed, and went out at 6:45 to the Oddfellows, a run down and filthy pub. An elderly Pakistani was playing the fuit machine with gusto. Moved on after one drink to the Second West. This pub has changed hands since our last visit. The organ is no more, and I suspect that Stan [the organist] has joined the heavenly host. To the Coachman's or is it the Coach House? I preferred it when it was Mucky Willie's. The dirt and destruction at home is getting on Ally's nerves and we were quarrelsome. I hate squabbling. At 10 we stormed out and went to buy a curry. Hotter. Four inches of dirt had settled at home, but the cooker and sink were installed.
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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...