A fruitless and half-defeated-to-begin-with search for work. I called in at the Job Centre down East Street and the one down Milton Street, scanning the ‘positions vacant’ boards with a resigned, unhopeful eye.
In the evening I got pissed with Pete and Lee at Masquerades, Pete, in the full grip of alcohol enthusiasm, suddenly deciding to go up to Easterby with Lee on Thursday. John Turney was there and we had a long conversation about Easterby, he just having returned, filled with Whincliffe Strangler, Lockley, and Volunteer Inn memories.
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