28th February 1848
A stormy day, with showers of rain. Rose at 8am breakfasted at 9 & I was at home writing etc till 2, when I went into town to the Newsroom to read the papers, & I sat there till 5, & then came home. MA & I dined at 5.30, We had tea at 7, & I read to MA & wrote till We went to bed at 10.30.
Many of the books I use to create my items come from car boot sales. I leave home early on a Sunday morning, travel on two buses and queue up waiting for it to open. This time of year it can be bitterly cold and I thought negotiating the iced over puddles would be the biggest hardship last weekend. I did not envisage being attacked by a Hollywood icon. Graceful and stylish as ever a large canvas depicting Audrey Hepburn took off in a strong gust of wind and travelled at great speed towards me across the sellers pitch. Fortunately she fell gently to the ground at my feet. I don’t think I would have pulled off the Breakfast at Tiffany’s pose as well had the canvas actually landed on my head as it seemed intent upon doing when it first took off.
city, with the minster, (?)_(?) the (?)_(?) in the distance.
Briant made better use of his bed. and slept soundly throughout the night.
By 9.30, we were out, and seeking breakfast in the Town, having decided that the hotel breakfast would be too costly. We found an excellent restaurant – Coffee and for D. & for me. – and then a quick look into the minster before continuing our journey.
We came along well – reaching Durham in time for lunch. It is a quaint old city, the streets steep and narrow, and a large market square. The position of the Cathedral is unique: standing as it does almost on the extreme edge of a high cliff with the river running below.
Its pure Nomran work, the strength and size of the pillars – each one with a different pattern or decoration – make it most impressive, and we were fortunate enough to have the sun, shining through the (?)hall(?), giving wonderful lights and shadows.
This journal documents a UK holiday taken in 1932, I’m still getting used to the handwriting so please excuse the blanks and any inaccurate transcriptions. The journal is filled with postcards and mementos so I’m including a photograph of each page as I feature it here.
Wednesday August 3rd 1932
11.15 am. Dottie and (?)Brian(?), and (?)E.P.A(?) left Ravenswood in the car, in search of a holiday, in new country.
Our plan was to get to Scotland, if possible, if not Yorkshire perhaps, but in any case, to see something fresh.
So we took the road, through Windsor to Cambridge. Lunching from the picnic basket, a few miles from Cambridge we pushed along, through Huntingdon, Newark, Grantham and Doncaster reaching York at 8.15.
Stayed the night at the Station Hotel. A very large and pretentious place, and proportionately costly.
Dottie and I shared a bedroom, most comfortable – but tired as we were, sleep was impossible to either of us, – being as we were, un-used to the noise of trains.
At 3am we got up and looking out of the window, had a most lovely view of the