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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The kitchen renovations continue. Our crooked walls are making it a long job. Tonight we went by bus, in pouring rain, into the metropolis, and had more Italian food at the Pizza House, on Sunbridge Road. Whitebait, prawn cocktails, lasagne. We were the only diners and our only companions were the tropical fish swimming amiably around in a tank. We used the good old Barclaycard, a rare thing these days. When we left the restaurant it was still pouring down , and seeing no buses, we walked half way home sharing an umbrella. We arrived home damp and happy to inspect the kitchen progress. To bed with hot drinks.
The gutter press are reporting that the marriage of Princess Anne and Capt Phillips is on the rocks. The princess celebrated her 32nd birthday at Balmoral, whilst Mark was farming hundreds of miles away at Gatcombe Park. It is about time that the press realised that members of the royal family are quite different to the ordinary couples out on the street. The Queen and Prince Philip are often parted for weeks on end but not because they are unhappy with each other. Royal life is essentially a lonely one.
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Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas SO21 1AS Shrove Tuesday Pancake Day on Sea. We left early and went to Bournemouth, but had a drive through ...
