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Sunday November 11, 1973

21st after Trinity. Remembrance Sunday. After about 4 hours sleep we all awoke at about 8.30, and my feet felt like a couple of blocks of ice. Chris's bedroom window had been wide open all night, and all I had was a thin blanket and a pillow case wrapped around my feet.

Andy, Chris and myself sat around until 9 debating the point that a bus was outside Grandways at 9.05. By the time we had decided that a bus was due it was too late. Anyway, it was a beautiful, crisp morning, and Andy and me walked to the crematorium where we boarded a bus at 10am.

By 10.25 I was home. Mother made me a cup of tea and we both sat in front of the tv to watch the Queen laying a wreath at the Cenotaph. A two minute silence followed. It was the eleventh hour of the eleventh month. Princess Anne was on the balcony of the Home Office along with Capt Phillips, the Queen Mother, Prince and Princess Richard of Gloucester and the Duchess of Kent.


Saturday November 10, 1973

After tea, Mum, Dad and John ganged up on me and demanded a court of inquiry into the way I am handling my financial affairs. I ignored them, and was probably extremely rude in the process.

At about 8 o'clock Dad took John to Christine W's and me to Rawdon lights. I then walked into Horsforth which took approximately 1 hour. I met Chris and Andy in the Fleece. We then moved on to the Stanhope, then the Brown Cow, the Kings, Grey Horse, Black Bull....

Laura joined us half way round the crawl, but by the time we reached the Grey Horse we were all extremely intoxicated.


Friday November 9, 1973

John and I go to the Emmotts at 8 where we chat with Ivy about Tuesday's incident with June. Chris and Denny arrive soon after. We also see Kevin Taylor and Bob Thompson. The lovely Laura arrives shortly after C and D. We consume several gallons of ale and pernods before Andy arrives, and by 10.30 we are all staggering, that is to say except Denny who, due to boredom, departed at 10.0 with her ex-fancy man. John and I luckily get a bus. Chris, Andy and Laura have to walk -all the way to Horsforth!


Thursday November 8, 1973

The Daily Express Alcoholic of the Year Awards 1973 were held in London today. The 2,037 contestants have consumed nearly 2m gallons of ale since January, and in the words of the compere, Sir Ron Tetley, Bt, 'this is a very large quantity of ale. Nearly two million gallons to be precise.' Sir Ron is 103. Anyway, to cut a long story short, the winner was Mr Christopher Ratcliffe, AA (Alcoholics Anonymous), who collected a cheque for 19p, the price of a good pint of keg bitter.


Wednesday November 7, 1973

The last week of freedom for Capt Phillips is now upon us, or him. I do suppose that Princess Anne will become 'HRH The Princess Anne, Mrs Mark Phillips', following the precedent set by Princess Alexandra in 1963. I think it is silly. How can a princess be a Mrs at the same time? No logic at all. The chappie who came up with this idea must have been on the ale the night before.


Tuesday November 6, 1973

Chris persuaded the gang to attend upon him at the Emmotts where I encountered June and Susan Jepson. I still love her intensely, although she treated me terribly tonight. Sarcasm never used to be her main drive. Ivy was most upset to see us go our separate ways. Evidently, the only man Ivy ever loved died after a seven year engagement, and she steadfastly refused to ever marry anyone else. Only yesterday Carol J said that, if after courting someone for a year and it fell through, she couldn't be bothered to start afresh with a new partner. She voiced my feelings entirely.


Monday November 5, 1973

Gunpowder, Treason and Plot.

(Large sketch of _______________ seen through the eyes of Michael Rhodes.)


Sunday November 4, 1973

20th after Trinity. One day when I'm famous, I do hope that _______________will forgive me for the sketch on the facing page. If he doesn't, I would like the publishers of my journal to leave out the entry for November 5. (But if the publisher thinks the journal will sell more copies with the sketch included, then publish it, and bugger me).


Thursday November 1, 1973



President Richard Nixon..................himself

Spiro T. Agnew..................................Dame Edith Evans, DCVO

Mrs Nixon..........................................Marlene Dietrich

Patricia Nixon's pet spaniel Spot....Lassie

Whore in Presidential bed...............Diana Dors

Patricia Nixon...................................Elizabeth 'Lassie Come Home' Taylor

President Nixon's mother...............Wilfred Hyde-White

Song: 'Tape me Home again, Kathleen'


Wednesday October 31, 1973

The Earl and Countess of Harewood have not been invited to the wedding of Princess Anne and Mark Phillips. Cousin George and Pat have been out of favour with the true royals for years. In fact 'Pat' was never 'in' with her old man's relations at all. I believe that Harewood's dirty goings on with his secretary killed the Princess Royal, who died 28.3.1965. The old girl had only just discovered that her son had an illegitimate son. The thought of divorce was too much for her. Even worse, the poor old Duchess of Windsor or the 'Unknown Queen of England' is also uninvited. But the sweet old thing is said to be 'looking round for a present'. Poor soul, it is scandalous the way she's been treated by her own family. She never shows any animosity towards them, although she's got every right to do so.

After a good days work I decide I want to stay in. John and Chris go to the Yorkshire Rose where Chris is asked his age by the staff. They walk out. Andy joins them. They come here with a supply of large cans of ale. We sit playing records and chatting until nearly 11. Andy goes for his bus. Chris rings his Dad but decides to stay the night. We look at photo albums until 1.30. Chris sleeps in the girls bedroom. A very enjoyable evening.


Tuesday October 30, 1973

Receive a letter from Christine in reply to the one I sent her over the weekend. She is hillarious!

Go to work after being dropped off in Guiseley by Dad, who is taking Mum, Lynn and Sue to Norfolk from today until Sunday. Auntie Hilda, Uncle Tony and the girls have been in Norfolk since Saturday. They are all freezing to death. I don't really like being separated from Mum - the invisible umbilical cord holds firm. Mother really is a fantastic person.

Fog is nationwide today. I love fog. It reminds me of June and my memories of last winter. I still love her. She is the only girl I ever want. We only had seven months together, beautiful seven months, and the happiest of my life.

See in the Evening Post that the Queen opened Parliament in State this morning. HM was accompanied by the Prince of Wales and Princess Anne.

Meanwhile, the wedding of the year is drawing closely near. TWO WEEKS! The poor captain will now be beginning to feel uneasy. After all, it's not every day you marry the Queen's daughter. The UK will soon have no unmarried Royal adult females. My chances will have gone!

Go to typing classes again. Even worse this time. Kathy, Sarah and I are almost killed on Wellington Street by a swerving lorry. Then minutes later I stepped out in front of a motor cycle. Sarah was a nervous wreck by the time we arrived at the station.

Come home to an empty house.


Monday October 29, 1973

It's a great laugh at the YP now that I've settled in. Today I went supplied with my urine sample in order to have the YP medical.

Fortunately Miss Went had arranged for my typing course to commence at 3.30 which disrupted the whole agenda. What a scream the typing thing was! The keys on the so-called typewriter are completely blank and one has to keep ones eyes on a screen in the centre of the room upon which the letters of the alphabet are situated. A silly voice, tape recorded, yells out the letter he wants you to bash, and you cannot look down at your fingers! A whole hour of insanity.

At 4.30 I went along to the medical room where I discover the doc is not in attendance. "Come back next Monday afternoon", said the aged receptionist.

Walk to the railway station with Sarah and see on a board that the Ilkley train is on platform 5 west. It said the same last week but it really was on platform 2. I therefore asked a porter from which platform the train was actually leaving from. 'You're a big boy now. You ought to be able to read. It's bloody 2. Platform bloody 2.'

Ena Sharples collapses on 'Coronation Street'. Is it the end for Britain's number one battle-axe? I hope not.