1965, the year that changed my life
Holiday in Scarborough — Day Four
During the week
1. Peter and I hung around with the Kirkby group[more] quite a lot, later in the week. Chris, I think, was off gallivanting with some of the girls who were there, especially Barbara from Broadbottom;[more] and I had no inclination to increase the residual yearning I felt in Pam’s company. Peter and I got quite friendly with Barbara and Doreen Meredith. For a change, we each fancied a different sister. Peter fancied Barbara, who was attractive, with mid-brown, mid-length hair, and in my memory wearing a pastel blue, patterned dress. I fancied Doreen, though: somewhat slimmer and more angular in build than Barbara, darker complexioned, darker-haired, wearing a red jumper and black trousers, more vivacious than her sister, tomboyish almost. Their Nottinghamshire accent charmed us, with their “bo-at” and “co-at”.
 Chris commented (16 March 2009 14:13):Perhaps Wednesday evening, 21st July 1965After all the crying and wailing at the loss of Hazel and Pam, I lost no time in getting off with this Barbara (in much the same way as you did with other available talent, really). I discovered a nice spot in some fields near to the camp, where one could "while away the time" together without being overlooked. I also remember that, before the end of those summer holidays, Barbara came to visit me in Thornton. In those days, Abbotts Coaches ran a service from Ashton-under-Lyne to Cleveleys, and I remember picking her up from Cleveleys Bus Station. Achhh, love's young dream! Most of those encounters were fairly short-lived, of course. Jumper — used in the British sense, meaning “pullover”, “jersey”, “sweater”.
2. In the evening meeting Uncle Tom spoke on “patience”, and at the end called on those who wanted the Lord to give them the gift of patience to stand up. Anticipating a repeat of the previous evening’s experience, I stood up — and nothing happened. I was as keen to receive patience as I had been to dedicate myself wholly to the Lord, I was in the same state of expecting the miraculous — but nothing happened.
Holiday in Scarborough — Day Six
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