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Friday October 3, 1975

Wake at about 7.45 with a terrible hangover. This continues throughout the day and doesn't wear off until long after lunch.

The girls in the office were arguing like Hell and Sarah almost bit Kathleen's head off when K came in at 2.30. I like to keep out of situations like that because you don't stand a chance arguing with four of five of the fair sex.

Go down to the Hare with Carole, Lynn, Dave, John, 'George', Pete M, &c, &c. CD and CB are of course in. Hear from Andy that he and Keith wrecked Keith's car near the Commercial last night. One day they'll be killed and that's no exaggeration.

At 11pm Dave and Lynn surprise me by saying they fancy going to the Cow & Calf, where Lynn's never been before. So Carole, CD, Lynn, Dave and me go up in Dave's car.

We have a great night and do nothing but laugh - especially on the way home over the moor singing 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'. The sound of our voices must have echoed throughout Yorkshire on this cold, autumnal evening. CD especially made a terrific noise, and after dropping Carole off at Menston she said she could hear us going all the way to White Cross. Home at 2.30 feeling tired, but most of all hoarse.


Thursday October 2, 1975

Excitement at work this morning. As ever, I was going through the Court Circular quenching my daily thirst for knowing what Her Majesty has been up to, and to my great surprise I see that the Duchess of Kent is to visit the Yorkshire Post on November 25. I know that over the years I have said horrible, unforgivable things about Yorkshire's own Royal duchess, but I can assure you that I've out-grown this childish phase now. The duchess does a brilliant job, and I must state categorically that the stories I wrote about her were nothing more than figments of my imagination. My vendetta against the House of Kent is over.

To Leeds in a thunderstorm with John at 7.30 and we meet about six lads in a despicable pub called the 'Tam O' Shanter' or something. After winding our way up the Headrow we end up in Cinderella's in something of a dislocated, drunken fashion. Raymond ends up grovelling on the floor, and Dave, the groom-to-be, is with a sizeable wench in a red dress. If his intended looks anything like that object I sincerely feel for him in his last week of freedom. John and I get a taxi from Cinderella's at 2am, and the thing cost £3.30. Split between the two of us it wasn't all that tragic. Slept soundly after devouring a sandwich.


Wednesday October 1, 1975

Down to meet Carole at 8.15pm and sit with her mother, aunt and uncle until she is ready to go out. This family really is hilarious, and coupled with the Frankie Howerd Show on TV I was all in all on the verge of hysterics.

Go across to the Hare at about 8.45 with Carole and it's incredibly quiet. Only Helen and CD are to be seen, and the atmosphere of the place is changing weekly. See Raymond, who tells me that Dave (his little friend) is to be married a week on Saturday and is having his "stag" night tomorrow. This entails a pub crawl through Leeds and an orgy in Cinderella's afterwards. John and I are going, but I don't think any of the other lads will be. Keith isn't really 'in' with the Raymond Bond set.

To get a bit philosophical. What is love and how does one define it? This is the ten dollar question. ______told ________that she loved him and asked if he felt the same way too. His reply was that never having been in love before he needed time to make up his mind what being in love actually entails. Is it possible to go through life thinking you are in love with someone only to find that you actually never were? Carole seems upset when I say I fall in love with every girl I go out with. She says I am the only boy she's loved and cannot understand why I have managed to get hitched from the heart many times before. Am I just gullable, or is falling in love like falling off the kerb as far as I'm concerned?



Tuesday September 30, 1975

A wet, unpleasant day. The end of September. It has been a lengthy month this, and we can now settle down in front of the TV on these unsettled evenings to watch such thrilling things as the Labour party conference from Blackpool, and all those adverts urging us to buy our Christmas presents early whilst we still have time. The prospects aren't thrilling at all when one thinks about it.

Work was uneventful and nothing is in the headlines at the time being. The usual rubbish about whether the Labour leadership will survive the party conference is all over the front page, but otherwise nothing of interest at all.

Home on the 5.15 (bus) for fish and chips (again). They do say that this greasy creation forms the staple diet of the working classes, and I tend to agree. I also think that they are the staple diet of the middle and upper classes because if you could see some of the people who queue for miles in all weathers outside Harry Ramsden's you'd know what I mean.

That is about all for today other than to mention that the Gadsby pair called upon us at about 8.30. They went out with Mum and Dad, and on arriving back here, we sat until nearly 1am talking about National Service, the energy crisis, politics and all the other useless subjects. Came to bed at 1.30 after compiling a letter to Carole. The first class post is eight and a half pence now! I'll have to try to curb my letter writing activities.


Monday September 29, 1975

To the YP after 10am. Sarah isn't sexy any more, and I'm going to stop writing about women in these pages because I am frequently making a bloody fool of myself. I change my mind like nobody's business.

Hear from 'George' this evening that Carole is ill in bed with one of her funnny heads again. At 8pm John takes me down to Menston and I buy him a drink in the Hare & Hounds. It is a bloody nasty wet night, so I'm relieved when he takes me straight to Carole's door.

Mrs Phillips bundles me upstairs where the Angel is propped up in bed looking like a ghost on the operating table. We sit watching TV. (Yes, she's the owner of a little portable one), and I stay with her for a couple of hours. I sit hunched on her bed and laugh at the pathetic sight of the rose I gave her on Friday night. There is is, all wilting upon her dressing table. She was reading, and re-reading the letter I wrote to her some days ago, so I think it's about time I created another one for her. The Darling Girl loves me I think. I hate people loving me - it gives me the frightening sense of having to be reliable, responsible and faithful. However, she is perfection itself.


Sunday September 28, 1975

18th after Trinity. Wake up at about 11am I think. John is still asleep and I go downstairs to investigate. Carole is lively, and so too are Sue & Peter who are carrying on like wrestlers in the lounge. 'George' is busy making cups of inviting, hot tea for all who want it. When John rises he proceeds to dash off to Ridgeway with 'George' and Carole, Sue, Peter and I remain for the so-called breakfast/lunch combined.

The four of us devour bacon, beans, mushrooms, fried bread, &c, and plenty of tea. Chris and Andy call in to see us before going to the Commercial, and I make (yes, you've guessed it) more hot tea, this time for Mum and Dad. Poor Mama is under the weather and lays motionless beneath her sheets like a Mummy - if you pardon the expression.

Sit with Carole all afternoon, and we watch a Tyrone Power film called 'The Mark of Zorro'. Corny, and ridiculously out-dated.

I worked 5pm until 10.30, and leave Leeds on the last bus.

John's party was a tremendous success again, and it looks like becoming something of an annual occasion.

Lynn and Dave are now over their first year of courtship and who knows just what the future will bring for this happy couple? Mum whispered the other day that she thinks they may be engaged when Lynn is 18. Who knows?

Home at about 11.15 and I eat masses of rabbit stew, which is delicious beyond words. See the end of a lousy James Dean film of which very little need be said.


Saturday September 27, 1975

John's birthday party. Mum is cooking all day and is in a foul mood after hearing from Tetley's that they haven't got the New Inn. She really is shaken about it and says they won't try for another pub if that is how they treat people, but that is hardly the right attitude. To get anywhere these days you have to fight, kick and cheat to do everything possible to secure your choice. Life's a rar race.

At 4pm I meet Carole in Guiseley and we buy some flash cubes for her camera and walk back to our place eating lollipops in the rain. Romantic is the word you are looking for.

To the Hare & Hounds at 8.30. Mum and Dad come down with Bill Stott and his wife, and all the gang gathers in readiness for the party. The guests are too numerous to mention, but you know who they are by now. Back to our place at 11 after talking with RM who is just out of Armley Jail. He stabbed someone in Yeadon and went down for nine months. Silly little sod that he is.

Party is a tremendous success. The food went as if a plague of locusts had descended upon it, but the drink lasted quite well. Mum went to bed at about 1am feeling 'off it' but otherwise no casualties were accounted for. I lasted out until about 5am and had the usual cheese on toast with Martyn Cole. Carole went up to sleep at 3. The poor girl is hopeless with drink.


Friday September 26, 1975

Do not wake until after 11. Staying in bed for hours on end is shear bliss. No work. Absolutely free until Sunday night! These days off are such marvellous things. (OK Michael, don't get carried away about having a few hours off work. It isn't the 'be all and end all' you know).

Finish reading The Duke & Duchess of Windsor by Ralph Martin. How much in love they were. The final chapter left a lump in my throat. The Queen should really feel ashamed for not letting the poor bloke do a job for us in Britain. All that talent and ability was rejected simply because he married out of the Establishment. Shameful.

To the Hare & Hounds with Carole at 8.30. Christine is in. I'm uneasy when both she and Carole are together. The animosity between the two is transmitted straight at me. With Peter M and Christine D in his van to Wikis. Carole and I don't dance until the final record, but we got on well enough. See Ann Greep, Marian, Maura, Lynne Mather, &c. My old girlfriends all in one night! Ann Greep especially was a surprise. I thought she'd married a guy called Ellis from Essex (no it's not a Limerick) and never imagined laying eyes on her again. At 2am walk Carole to Menston and then walk home. Arrive at 3am. Have a drink with Dad and then go to bed.


Thursday September 25, 1975

John's birthday. A wet day, and I come home at about 4.30 after getting a thorough soaking in town at lunchtime. I buy John the LP 'Rock Your Baby' by George Macrae, which is a bit old now, but he likes it all the same. Lynn and Dave buy him a pair of driving gloves and a spark plug remover (of all things) for the car. Carole (bless her) came up at about 8pm with a 'Three Degrees' LP and 'George' bought him a pewter tankard.

At 8pm the Gadsbys called in for a few minutes to give John a card. __________.Lynn, Dave, John, 'George', Carole, Sue, Mum and I have a little booze-up celebration. The only absentees are Papa at work and Peter, who is down at the Fox & Hounds boozing. We all get merry. Some merrier than others, and I walk Carole to 'George's' where she is staying.

John isn't having a proper party until Saturday, which is traditional for his birthdays. Mum will no doubt excel herself in every way when the day actually comes. Her cooking is so good. She puts Fanny Cradock to shame.


Wednesday September 24, 1975

Two years ago at about this time we all drew the conclusion that our beloved Prince of Wales would make Miss Amelia Rose Clifton his princess. Rosie Clifton, however, must have different intentions, because after finishing with the prince at Balmoral she tagged herself along with old Prince Michael of Kent. This romance too proved useless because earlier this year she married the younger brother of millionaire Lord Vestey and became the Hon Mrs Mark Vestey.

The horror story circulating Fleet Street at the moment is that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is attached to MRS Rosalind Ward, a married mother with two children. Tut, tut. This will never do. The Duke of Windsor was all very well, but we don't want another one. The prince will be 27 in November and if he's not married soon I intend washing my hands of him.

Let's hope Prince Andrew will find the marriage market easier to deal with when it falls his lot to give the nation a Duchess of York.

John's birthday tomorrow. I think I'll buy him a record or something similar. He's the owner of far too many pullovers, shirts, socks and trousers and they're beyond my price-range at the moment.


Tuesday September 23, 1975

It feels like a Monday today because it's my first day back at work since the weekend.

I ring Carole at work and we decide to go to the cinema this evening. 'Mandingo' starring James Mason and Susan George, which is all about slaves and plantation life in America in the 19th century. I've heard that it's full of sex and violence, but when we eventually see it at 8.30 tonight it is very mild and typical indeed. Fancy, travelling all the way to Leeds to see a film which could easily cheer the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury himself. However, we did like it and it gave us the excuse (not that we need one) to sit huddled together in a dimly lit room.

Home on the 10.45 35 and I call at her home for a drink. After saying my fond farewells I walk home. Luckily I missed the rain, which just stopped as we alighted from the bus.

Home at about 12 and continue reading the Duke & Duchess of Windsor by Ralph Martin.

John is still at death's door, but he vows he'll be well again for his birthday celebrations on Thursday.



Monday September 22, 1975

Up at 9.30. Ernest Blackwell is in for a cup of coffee with Dad and Sue, and I show him 'The Story of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor' by Ralph Martin (which I bought on Saturday by the way). The book is really excellent and I believe theirs is the greatest love story of all time. To give up the throne for a woman!

Back to this diary peeping lark. I was mad with Carole. Reading someone elses diary is like opening someone elses drawers and reading other peoples mail. It is worse in fact. However, I'll bear no grudges and continue to say horrible things about people whether they are reading it behind my back or not.

She rang me at 11am to ask if I still loved her. Of course I do. She must think I am a cruel swine. I love her in a silly sort of way really, and she is the only girl I have fallen for who didn't knock me off my feet at first sight. Strange really.

Today is Mark Phillips's 27th birthday. I am disappointed really. Twenty-seven years old, two years married life behind him, and still no grandchildren for the Queen. A fortune teller in one of the Sundays says Princess Anne is going to have a baby girl next year. I am no medium, and it certainly takes no magic powers to se that 1976 will see Princess Anne in the Olympics, and no offpsring will appear until late 1977, or even 1980.

Carole comes round with Maria at about 8.30. We sit and drink Campari in the dining room and I give Carole a free hand with the record player. We don't really have the same taste in music, but Tamla Motown is just about bearable. I walk her home at a ghastly late hour and then walk all the way back in a slight drizzle.

Leap into bed with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor which is a tremendous book.


Sunday September 21, 1975

17th after Trinity. A very important day for this diary, as you will discover further down in this entry. I arose at about 11am and had no breakfast.

John is still quite ill, but he's getting rude, abusive and obnoxious with everyone again so he must be on the mend.

Whilst Mum is cooking lunch I go round to 'George's' and catch Carole dressed in nothing but a bath towell - very sexy. I lay on the sofa listening to the 'Abraxas' LP by Santana. Carole comes in and we lay in one anothers arms like lovers from some corny love story. 'George' joins us and entertains us by telling us Tchaikovsky's life story. I knew he was a queer, but that was all I could contribute really.

Home for lunch at 2pm. Beautiful it was too. The afternoon was very sunny, breezy and warm.

Carole and 'George' come round for coffee at about 3, and C and I had our photographs taken on the lawn. She walked with me to the bus stop at 4 and saw me off to Leeds where I worked until 10.30. I left one and a half hours early because I was bored sick. Ringing Carole at 8pm she mentioned that I kept a diary. Silence fell, and I then said: 'You've been reading it haven't you?' 'Yes' came the reply, and she announced she was going to bed early. I put down the phone and feel annoyed and embarrassed both at the same time. To think she's read all the things I've said about her, before I even thought anything about her. I've called her a 'bitch' and all sorts. However, on reading my diary in the first place she has committed the biggest offence. I left at 10.30 and was home for 11.15. Carole is at our place and seems subdued. Everyone departs to bed leaving us to discuss things. We are both upset, me for writing such things in the first place, and she for reading it. Walked her home at 1am.


Saturday September 20, 1975

Wake at about 10.30 feeling a bit grotty. No doubt I am about to undergo the horror of pnuemonia or tonsilitis like poor John.

At 1pm I go down to 'George's' and along with Carole the three of us go to Ramsden's for fish and chips, which were a bit sickly really. At 2 we get a bus to Leeds where we pass the afternoon. Three hours later we return home on a 33 bus with a pair of shoes for Carole and not much else really. I buy her a box of chocolates and she smiled so adoringly at me when I did so it makes me want to go on buying her things for ever and ever just to see the expression on her face. An incident on the bus was rarther maddening. I had one of my rare cigarettes, and a man wearing a bright yellow hat took offence to my doing so. After a slanging match with us he calmed down a bit and began telling Maria why hate hated other people. We all realised he was stark raving mad.

Carole and I go to the Hare & Hounds where David, CD and Peter M join us. Andy and Linda are with us for half an hour or so, but they leave in order to continue with their sexual experimentations, one would certainly think so by the look on Andy's face. At 9.30 the 5 of us leave for the Edwardian Club in Bradford, which is a terrible looking place. We got out of the car and found ourselves knee deep in litter. Most of the slums in the area look like whore-houses and four of us flatly refused to enter the place. David was thus out-voted and we went to the Pentagon where I discovered that my trousers had split up the back. Home to 'George's' at 2am for cheese on toast.



Friday September 19, 1975

A wet, unpleasant day. Work was quite busy and I was glad to make good my escape at 4.30. The girls are not in when I get home, and I'm told that Lynn and Dave have gone off with the Baker family to Whitby for the weekend. Grief, they aren't home for two minutes before they're off again.

John came home from work rarther early and is propping up the tea table and looking far from well. I am dumbfounded to hear he isn't going out tonight, and am even more stunned to see him stagger upstairs to bed at about 6.30. John ill isn't natural at all. He was never designed to be bed-ridden. I loathe it when he's off colour.

I go to Carole's at 8 and sit watching the television with her horrid 11-year old brother until 8.20. (Dave L dropped me off at C's incidentally). Chat with Mrs P and I like her a lot. Now I know where Carole gets her character.

To the Hare and Hounds. Quiet really, and only Dave L, Keith and Helen, CD, and C. Smith are present. At 9.30 we all go to the New Inn. My first view of what could be my future home, and I'm quite surprised really. Cosy with great prospects and I'm warmed within to think it's not a rough hole in the ground. Back to the Hare for a final drink before going to Wikis which is incredibly dead. Everyone leaves at 1am except for Carole, CD, and me, and I suffer the horror of walking up, or rarther scaling Thorpe Lane in torrential rain. Frogs and toads were leaping around everywhere, and I felt far from jovial.


Thursday September 18, 1975

Pleasant day at work. At about 4 o'clock I decided to do a bit of research into the whole business of the State Opening of Parliament lark. Getting out the files for this event from 1952 I attempt to draw up a list of them all, and several interesting facts arose. 1952 to 1974 means 22 state openings, or so one would think. However, only 20 state openings have taken place in the Queen's reign. In 1959 Her Majesty didn't open Parliament at all due to the fact that she was expecting the birth of Prince Andrew, and instead the Lord Chancellor the Earl of Kilmuir read her speech from the steps of the throne in the House of Lords. The other occasion when a state opening did not take place was March 12, 1974. You may well remember that Uncle Harold had just been returned to No 10, and the Queen had to fly from Australia to let him kiss her hands. Because of the suddeness in the rise of Uncle Harold's fortune, the necessary arrangements for the regalia to be cleaned and polished could not be reached on time, and so it came to pass that Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II went to Parliament wearing her best Sunday dress and sitting in her Rolls-Royce, to read little Harold's prepared speech. These spectacular splashes normally take place normally take place in the chilly days of late October or early November, and once she opened Parliament on November 5 - Gunpowder, Treason and Plot and all that, &c. However, the eratic ways of our beloved Prime Ministers over the years have deemed it necessary for HM to ride to Westminster once in April, on her 40th birthday in 1966; once in June, once in July, and as I've already said, once in March. Aren't I a clever lad? Being able to fill a whole page with such a distant, uncontroversial topic. And what is more, I could go on for more pages in a similar way. For instance, did you know in 1956 Princess Margaret made history by being the first sister of a reigning Sovereign to accompany the monarch to the State Opening of Parliament? And did you know that the State Opening..... (Cont page 94)



Wednesday September 17, 1975

Out again on the town tonight - the sixth night in a row. Carole thinks I'm becoming besotted with her, and I suppose that is why, in her drunken state, she rambled on about love and marriage._____________. I quake in my boots at the thought of marching down the aisle with her. Hell, I'm only twenty years old!

Not wishing to cause any relious strife amongst my readers I'd just like to say that Miss Phillips is a member of the Roman Catholic faith. I am not complaining of course, but me being a terrible mixture of C of E, Methodist, Congregationalist and Hindhu does confuse matters. I may even have to renounce all these for the papist dogma, if I do heed the advice of Miss Phillips, and take her down the aisle, and replace Her Majesty the Queen with His Holiness the Pope in my affections. However, I hope that day never dawns when this last, grotesque transfer of loyalty takes place.

Down to the Hare and Hounds again, and we don't really say much to each other.____________. I laugh at her, and it begins to rain as we walk to Harry Ramsden's for fish and chips. Home at 12.30 feeling decidedly damp.


Tuesday September 16, 1975

Arrive home at tea time to receive a surprise indeed. Dave B, all nicely suntanned, is stood with John on the drive, and the friendly squeals of Lynn and Sue drift from the kitchen! We were not expecting them until tomorrow night. Lynn bought me a bottle of Campari and John a bottle of Pernod. It sure was great to see them all again. Mum was quite flustered and rushed around cooking a meal for everyone. It was just like old times again. No sooner had tea subsided that we started opening a few bottles, and shortly after that I was speaking to Carole on the phone. She came round at 8pm, and Auntie Hilda and Uncle Tony arrived at just about the same time. We had a few glasses of pernod, and David B took us down to the Hare & Hounds. Just David, Lynn, Carole, me, Christine D, and John & Maria were in. We all came back to Pine Tops at 11pm to continue with the party spirit. Carole became rarther intoxicated, and she spilled a drink on me and another one all over the dining room carpet. I walked her round to the Macdonald residence, where she stays more often than at home. _____________________. Even marriage was discussed! That was rarther close to the bone, and I only hope the soberness of morning will make her see things in a different light.



Monday September 15, 1975

A pleasant evening at Miss Maria Macdonald's. John went round at about 8pm and I wallowed in the bath until about 8.20. Mum was at the Commercial & Dad was working and so I was the only one at home.

David came at 8.30 and we had a drink of Ouzo. (By the way, Sarah came back from Corfu bringing me a bottle of the local poison called Ouzo, which is what me and David tried to pollish off). Round at 'George's' Carole was sitting dressed up in Mrs M's pre-war gear - fox fur stole included, and her eye was swollen. Whilst the girls were playing around we rigged up the tape recorder to capture Maria's playing (the piano) forever on record. Mrs M was in stitches, and we hid the microphone in a vase of flowers.

At 10pm the five of us went down to the Commercial for a quick one. Carole bought a round of drinks and wouldn't let me pay. Even Dad came in at about 10.15 straight from work and we all sat together near the fruit machine talking about, of all things, religion. David was reckoning to hate Roman Catholics.

Back to 'George's' until after 12 and I tried in vain to find a track from an LP which Jimmy played for us on his birthday.

John came straight home from the Commercial because he was tired, and when I arrived home he was sleeping like a baby.


To be continued.

Sunday September 14, 1975

16th after Trinity. Up at around 11am and have a little breakfast. John and I go to the Commercial just after 12 o'clock, but no one else comes. Talk with Ron about bar work, and stay until about 1.30. Drink Stella Artois lager, which is tremendous stuff. Home at 1.30 for a lovely lunch.

Laugh at a ridiculous Erroll Flynn film on the BBC - 'Robin Hood' or something, and then John takes me down to Carole's at 4.30 whilst Mum and Dad sleep soundly in the lounge.

Carole and I go for a walk over the moor, and I feel dog-tired. Drinking at lunchtime must do it, because I'm not normally so dull on an afternoon. A beautiful afternoon, though at times it is biting cold. We sit for 30 minutes or so on a grassy bank in Hawksworth and watch the clouds drift overhead. The scenery is marvellous and only ten minutes walk from home. How lucky we country-dwellers are.

Back to Pine Tops for tea and John and Maria join us. At 8.30 we go with Mum and Dad to the Hare & Hounds, and we stay until 10.30. They are getting all sorts of people to promise to come to the New Inn if we get it. I walk Carole home and then go back with Mum & Dad - getting fish and chips on the way.

Carole looked a bit peaky later on tonight, and I fear she's far from well yet. Poor Darling Creature.


Saturday September 13, 1975

Up at about 10.30 which is unusual for Saturdays. Have breakfast with Mum and Dad and then sit with the Daily Mail in my dressing gown. The Daily Mail isn't stuffed down my dressing gown of course, I mean I was sat reading the DM wearing my dressing gown. Phew, glad I've got that little matter cleared up.

Carole rings and says she's off into Leeds with a schoolfriend - to get a new dress, and I say I'll meet her at 8pm.

Mum and Dad go shopping and buy me 'Fool' by Al Matthews, a good record and the first I've bought in years.

Go down to Carole's at 8 and she looks stunning in a beautiful, new dress. Her hair is gorgeous too, and I'm so glad now that she had the patience to wait around for me whilst I was carrying on pretending not to be the least bit interested in her.

Very few people in the Hare. David's gone to the dogs again, and I think with MM and Marita too.

Move on to the Lister's Arms with Peter and then back to the Hare at 10.30. CD, Carole and I go to Helen Claughton's party on Otley Road, and CB goes with Roger. Jimmy Elkington is playing around like a ridiculous big kid and Pete Lazenby is there quite drunk. We don't drink anything and leave just after 1am. Walk Carole to Harry Ramsden's then come home.


Friday September 12, 1975

Go round to Carole's where she is looking much better, and is quite ready to go out and about once again. Have a laugh with Mrs P. She overheard me telling Mr P that I am taking Carole to the Hare & Hounds. She hasn't told her Dad where I take her, and I suppose he really didn't want her drinking until she is 18. He didn't say anything, but Mrs P was just about crippled with laughter in the kitchen.

Go to the Hare, where David arrives at the same time. All the gang are in again and we stay until 11pm. Mum and Dad came in at 9 and stayed for about an hour and a half, telling everyone about the New Inn. I only hope they get it after all this.

No one can persuade David to go to Wikis, and in the end Carole, self, Keith, Helen, John, 'George', Raymond, and Ray's mate and his ladyfriend, go down. A brilliant night, and Carole and I are hardly separated except for when she gets up to dance. My foot is still somewhat weak and dancing isn't quite the thing I fancied. Peter ( I didn't mention him in the list, did I?) brings Carole and me home at about 2.30, and I go straight to bed. John gets in from 'George's' 10 minutes later.


Thursday September 11, 1975

John takes me down to Carole's at 9 o'clock. Maria is with her. She's still very pale, but at least she's out of bed. Seeing people ill is one of the most horrid duties imaginable, especially when the ill one is someone close.

I borrow Carole's typewwriter, and when John brings me home at 10 o'clock I set to and type her a letter. She gave me a questionaire to complete and I do so - returning it to her. Women! They have funny ways of finding out what we men think of them.

Mum and Dad seem a lot nearer getting the New Inn in Guiseley. The interview at 10am went great, and at 6pm they had permission to look around the premises. The living quarters aren't like what we are used to, but we have been spoilt living on Hawksworth Lane. Go to bed at about 12 o'clock after discussing pubs with Mum & Dad.


Wednesday September 10, 1975

Go and see Carole at 8.30 after having a drink with John at the Hare & Hounds. The poor thing is sat up in bed with Arthur, her Teddy Bear, and she is somewhat pale.

She tells me she's been sick all day but says that she's going into work all the same tomorrow. I tell her not to be idiotic, but I think she hates sitting around at home and would prefer to feel ill at work. Mrs P too, is feeling unwell, and so the household is in a bit of a mess really. Spend an hour with Carole before going back to the Hare. John and 'George' go see Carole as I arrive at the Hare and I stand until 10.30 with Christine D. Elaine comes home on Sunday from New Zealand after being away for 18 months. She is of course looking forward to seeing her big sister after all these months. See Helen too, and Christine B, who is sat with Philip. (Aye, Aye. Do I detect a reunion here?) Home on the 33 bus and walk up Thorpe Lane with CD as usual. My foot isn't too healthy yet, but I can hop along at a rare old speed.

Will go see Carole tomorrow night if she's no better.


Tuesday September 9, 1975

Up at 7.30 as usual but I find I cannot walk about on my right foot, which doesn't look bruised at all though it is quite painful. Dress, the have breakfast undecided about whether to go into work or not. Mum says it's hardly worth it, and I might as well rest my foot for the day. I give Eileen a ring and tell her the tale of how I fell whilst pushing the car. She promises to pass this message on to Her Majesty The Boss.

Mum and John go off to work, and I do absolutely nothing all morning. Dad is playing about with John's car on the drive, but it's much too wet to do anything outside. The weather has definately changed these past few days, and believe it or not I'm quite looking forward to the long, dark, winter nights, with people singing Christmas carols, and all the ladies looking sexy in shiny Wellington boots. Yeah man, that's definately my scene.

Dad goes off to work at 2pm after we had lunch together, leaving me quite alone in the house. Time sure does drag by. After playing records for an hour, I took a long bath which soothed my foot a little.

A chap rang from Tetley's to say Mum and Dad could have an interview for the New Inn on September 11. I hope now that they'll get the place because it would be so handy. Everyone who's been recently seems to think it's a decent place and even if it's not, a pub is what you make it. Our family, with all its contacts, should attract much new trade. My friends alone could keep us going quite nicely.

Carole's Mum rings me at 7.30 to say Carole is unwell.(We were supposed to be going out tonight). Evidently she's sick once again and I'm horrified to hear that she almost died 2 or 3 years ago. Her kidneys and liver were not functioning correctly. For God's sake, I hope the illness isn't repeating itself. I told Mrs P I'd go see Carole tomorrow evening. I like her very much and now know where Carole gets her madness from.



Monday September 8, 1975

I've just been flicking through the entries for July and I'm horrified by some of the terrible things I've said about Carole. I really do not know why I should have taken that attitude. I met her on July 12 and immediately decided she 'wasn't my type'. Then, on July 13, I said 'she isn't going to be easy to get rid of'. Then on the 16th of the same month I labelled her a 'bitch'. By the 19th I was having second thoughts about my not liking her, and four days after that, on the 23rd, I'd quite fallen for her. She went on holiday on the 26th and I didn't see her again until I returned from Majorca on August 23. I could of course erase all the terrible references about her from my diary, but that would be censorship, which simply won't do. Let us hope that they never fall into her hands that's all - the diaries I mean.

Work wasn't too busy and I was home at 5.30 in a starved state ready for tea. John doesn't get in until 6.30 because his damned car broke down. The poor boy is forever plaged with useless cars and no matter what he does to try to fix them they rarely seem to go. One would think that a five year-old Triumph Spitfire would be a bit more reliable. In his attempts to get it home he was compelled to leave it in Guiseley, and at 8pm I went out to help him push it up the lane. You have no idea just how steep Hawksworth Lane is until you try to push half a ton of metal up it. In the process of doing this I went over on my ankle and had to stagger home.

Mum went off to the Commercial to do her bit for the nation and I sat with my foot up watching 'Al Capone', starring Rod Steiger. John brings 'George', and I don't think I mentioned what happened last night. When the girls had left at about 11.30 we said we'd signal to one another across Tranmere Park by flashing our bedroom lights on and off. It was a great success, and we learned tonight that even Mrs Macdonald was participating.

'George' stayed for her supper and left at about midnight. Mum came home at about the same time after having had a good night.

Carole rang me at 7pm and I said we should go out tomorrow. She said something about me seeing a lot of her lately, but I really don't think I have. Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays isn't every day of the week is it? After great mathematical calculations I realise I do ot see her on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays.


Sunday September 7, 1975

15th after Trinity. Wake up on the sofa at Dunedin House with my arms round the most beautiful girl in the world. That was 7am. Feel as though I'm dying with 'dog disease' and the symptoms are very similar to those I suffered from in Windsor last September. John and 'George' are upstairs and I persuaded Carole to go investigate. John comes down at about 7.15 and we both leave for home. Mum will be worried sick if she has just happened to go into our room. The poor soul will be thinking we are dead, or something.

Crawl into bed at 7.30 and sleep until nearly 2pm, when Mum comes in to say that lunch is about ready. She did call in on us at 6am when Dad was leaving for work and was worried, as I thought she would be. I told her that Maria had had a party and at the last minute we decided to stay over. Chicken for lunch followed by a much needed cup of coffee in the lounge in front of an ailing Gary Cooper film.

At 4.30 we both go back to 'George's' where I sit about playing old Beatles LPs whilst the girls get out of bed! Lazy devils that they are. They even had me making cups of tea while they sat propped up in bed. Not forgetting the mountains of coconut cake which they quickly demolished. At about 5 we decided to go off for a walk over the moors taking Prinney with us. John, of course, had to go as far as Thorpe Lane in the car, but we, the four of us, managed to do a lengthy all round trip of Hawksworth. It was such a great afternoon. Carole was wearing her large 'oil rig' type shoes, and thus kept falling on her back in the brambles and heather - much to my advantage I can tell you.

At about 7 we got back to our place where the four of us had tea. 'George' asked of Mum was artistic because she'd laid the table in such a nice way. I must admit, I've never noticed this before, but on reflection I must agree. Mum and Dad go off to see Auntie Hilda, &c. and we all play records and watch an Orson Welles film. Prinney came back too, and Dad quite took to him. I'm looking forward indeed to getting a dog.

We have a great time really and I'm getting to love Carole even more so now. Today will go down as one of my favourite days of all time.


Saturday September 6, 1975

Mum gets me up at about 11. I ring Carole at 'George's' after breakfast and she says we ought to do something this aftnernoon, but she's going shopping in Leeds with her mother first. Like a fool I say I'll hang about at home until she gets back, which isn't for another six hours! After doing absolutely nothing all afternoon I eventually get the call from Carole at 6pm and immediately go down to 'George's' for tea - supposedly that is. Mr & Mrs Macdonald have gone off to Cardiff to see their elder daughter, and so 'George' is grandad sitting for the weekend. John is already at the house and he's yelling at 'George' for not being ready. They are going to Brummels near York with Keith and Helen at 8pm and at 7.30 she's still far from ready.

Carole makes me a beef curry while I rumage through Jimmy's records looking for an LP he played me ages ago. Not knowing the name of the group or the album dooms me to failure from the start. The curry was quite good, and I devoured it whilst Carole prepared herself to go out. John and 'George' go out at 8, and that leaves the two of us with Grandad (Savage). I take him his milk up, and Carole sees that he's nicely tucked in bed. We then walk romantically to White Cross where we get a bus to the Hare. The evening had that autumn feeling about it, and I'm sure we've seen the last of this astonishing summer once and for all.

John, Keith and the ladies leave shortly after we arrive, and that leaves Chris, who is with Gillian U, Christine D, Christine B, who is with a mob at the other end of the bar and doesn't stay with us for a great length of time. Raymond is in with Lumsden and they are keeping away too, so in fact the only ones conglomerated around the juke box are Carole and I, Chris and Gillian, Peter M and Christine D. Nothing much is going on and I can't help thinking that Chris fancies Carole. We had decided to go back to 'George's' to see a horror film, but Peter persuaded us to go up to the Cow & Calf. Out-numbered by women again. Good old CB came along. CB knows CD fancies Peter and has devilment written all over her face. Carole and I stand quite alone for a good part of the night, and I only danced once. We had such a laugh together too. Kept saying 'Cooee!' like Barry Humphries does in the latest Barry Mackenzie saga. Home at 2.30 to 'George's' where I fall asleep on the sofa.


Friday September 5, 1975

At 11.30 I ring from the YP to bid my farewells to Lynn and Susan for ten days or so. At 2.30pm they leave for Winchester (where Alison now lives. Have I mentioned this before?)

Tonight I meet Carole at the Hare & Hounds where all the gang are assembled. Andy is having his last fling before Linda gets home tomorrow. David is there too, and I give him the £5 I owe him which cheers him up no end. I still can't get over him drinking port, but I've already gone into detail on that topic before.

I'm wearing jeans and Carole wants to go to Wikis, and so John brings me home and we both change. Whilst I'm away Carole manages to spill a pernod all over some innocent bystander - what a bloody waste. We go down to Wikis before 11 along with Andy, Pete M, Raymond and his latest girlfriend. Have a nice time but the place is markedly quiet. See Nigel Lister and Ronnie, who have at one time or another both been close friends with Lynn. Nigel always says hello, but Ronnie pretends he doesn't know me. Everyone seems to have taken to Carole. I noticed Raymond giving her wide-eyed stares, and I'll have to keep my eye on things. At 2.20am we walked up the lane to 'George's', where Carole is staying the weekend. It starts to rain and I get in at nearly 3 o'clock feeling slightly damp. Have two doughnuts, two cheese and pickled onion sandwiches, then come to bed and read a few paragraphs of 'My Queen and I'. Not bad eh, for 3.30 in the morning?


Thursday September 4, 1975

At lunchtime I bought the book 'My Queen and I' by William Hamilton, MP. I don't really know why I bought it, because I said I never would, but I feel that before one criticises a person one must first listen to their argument. I sit at home reading it, and fuming. A really terrible publication, and poor Princess Margaret especially is pulled to pieces and generally demolished. You would think that because he is a Member of Parliament Mr Hamilton would be presumed to be of some intelligence, but he most certainly is not. Never have I read such drivel. How he twists the facts around is quite incredible. Cunning, sly and immensely wicked - he really is. If certain members of the Royal Family aren't as hard as nails, they will surely have been in tears reading this book.

See 'Top of the Pops' which isn't too good, and give Lynn and Sue £1 each to help them on their way across Europe tomorrow. The place will certainly be dull without them both, and as Mum was saying, we are losing four really because Dave and Peter will be gone too. Lynn especially seems excited tonight. She says they get the ferry to Belgium at 8.30 on Saturday, then go through Luxembourg and Switzerland to Italy, where they arrive late on Sunday afternoon. Mum is dreading them going and I think she'll be a bit tearful tomorrow.

Horror of Horrors! Met Dave B in town this afternoon and went to Whitelocks for a quick drink. He informs me that not one single holiday photo of mine came out. The whole film was ruined, and he's not sure whether the camera is broken or not. Just think, if Chris had not taken a camera too, we would have no photographs of our Majorcan holiday. Dave didn't say much other than that he considers himself the guardian of the bunch going tomorrow. I'm sure Peter and Martyn are quite capable of looking after themselves and the women aren't so useless either - especially after their Spanish extravaganza last year.


Wednesday September 3, 1975

I'm not going to say a single thing about work today because so many things of much greater importance occurred.

At lunchtime (12.30) I met David, Marita and MM in the Wellesley. We all had a few sandwiches and several drinks but the atmosphere wasn't much good. ________. At 1.30 me and Marita had to return to work, whilst MM and David went off in the direction of Leeds University in order to sabotage the library therein. What a great life these millions of unemployed lead! Since 'signing on' on the dole this morning they've just enjoyed themselves in order to forget the traumatic experience. Dave said that fifty three people - mostly old, spitting men in flat caps - were in the queue in front of him in the social security place this morning. I for one would absolutely hate the idea of having to go (there). The humiliation of it all cannot be worth the mere few bob one receives for it. I'd rarther do without.

At 4.30 Dave collects me from the YP along with MM and Marita and for the first time in what seems like years, I get a lift home. Arriving home early I mess about in the garden because I've forgotten my key and Mum isn't in until 5.25. Sue gets home just after me, and we have such a laugh. I'll certainly miss her when she goes to Italy on Friday.

John tells me that Carole hasn't been well this week and probably isn't fit to go out tonight. Once again I'm going out with a girl who doesn't have a telephone. So at 8 I decide to go round and see her. I walk all the way to Menston, and her mother makes me tremendously welcome. Her (Carole's) aunt keeps calling me Nick or Nicholas, but she soon gets the hang of my real name. The two of us go over to the Hare where Lumsden is celebrating his birthday. Christine B says she's going flying in a private 'plane on Saturday night, and we laugh about it. Darryl Wills - EP reporter - catches my attention, and the next time I look for Carole she's gone. Andy is pissed and says she's buggered off, and like a maniac I go round to her place in Keith's car. Before I know where I am, half the Hare & Hounds roll up, and they all have coffee. Carole says she's sorry but I still feel mad about it. I'll get my own back somehow. Keith drops me off in Guiseley.


Tuesday September 2, 1975

Mum & Dad hear that they've failed to get the Menston Arms. I'd quite built up my hopes for the place and don't think Mum is too happy about the news either. Why, Oh why can't things ever be nice and easy for our family? I'm sure we must be fated or something. Dad thinks that the New Inn in Guiseley is a good place to try for, but I don't think it looks like anything special at all.

Marita rings at 7.30 to see about meeting me for lunch in the Wellesley tomorrow. Dave will of course be coming along, and probably MM. Haven't seen Marita since that party we had at the end of July. _______.

John sold his Morris 1100 today. £15!! I think it's quite ridiculous because he paid £150 for it 13 months ago, but he doesn't seem peturbed by his loss. His wild hysteria over the spitfire is probably still colouring his judgement, but I bet he'll regret giving his old car away one day. You mark my words.

Auntie Hilda and Uncle Tony came this evening. I was in the midst of watching 'Quo Vadis' a 3-hour film based on the Roman Empire and the Christians, &c. Peter Ustinov is Nero, and Deborah Kerr a sensual slave-girl. Not a good film really. Mum, Dad, Hilda and Tony went to the New Inn to give it the 'once over'. By strange coincidence, John and 'George' were also inspecting the New Inn at the same time, and they came back at 11pm with tales of wonder. Evidently, it isn't a bad place after all, and even John was impressed by the decor. I shall have to see it to believe it. Doubting Thomas is like a rice pudding compared with me.

The Gadsbys return for supper and we tuck into beef sandwiches and sardine sandwiches. John brings 'George' back and Peter Nason is here too. Lynn and Dave are round at Christine D's residence and don't get back until late.

After 'Quo Vadis' I switched onto BBC2 and see the 1705 version of 'Jane Eyre' starring Orson Welles and Olivia de Havilland's plain sister - I can't remember he name now. An outstanding film anyway, and I came to bed after the Gadsby's departure at 12.00.


Monday September 1, 1975

The first of September. I cannot decide if the year's gone really quickly or not. _____.

Lynn passed two more 'O' levels today, so now she's got seven 'O' levels. I have four, and Sue has two.______.

See in one of the cheaper Sunday papers that the fiend who's been pestering Princess Anne over the past weeks actually never heard the princess on the phone or has uttered a word to anyone at Oak Grove House. He was dismissed from his Post Office job for eaves-dropping. I think it is only right and proper under the circumstances. __________.

Oh, by the way. On Friday I wrote a lengthy letter to 'George' under the pretence that it was from Lord Macdonald of Sleat, Chief of the Macdonald clan. She rang at 6.30 to talk about it. Her Mum's been in hysterics all day about it and she's still laughing herself under the table now. Judith Rushworth may well be right when she says I should write a novel. Harold Pinter may be able to knock off Lady Antonia Fraser, but I bet I can write much better than he can.



Sunday August 31, 1975

14th after Trinity. Up at lunchtime again, as is traditional at weekends. Mum makes a cooked breakfast and then departs to the Commercial where she is under training for her future bar experience. John and I go down at 12.30 to be joined by Andy, who is on his own without Linda, who is of course on holiday in Torquay with Miss Carol Smith and Miss Christine White. __________. Mum looks a natural behind the bar, and Ron and Annie are really good to her. Ron even suggested that I should go down to get a bit of practice in, and he said "you might as well come here and make mistakes than make things hard for your Mum and Dad when they're in a new pub." A tremendous offer for him to make.

At 1.30 John goes off on a picnic with 'George' to Grassington, and I help collect the glasses for Mum to wash. When they call 'time' Dad and I stay behind to discuss things and we have a few drinks on the house before coming home at 3.30. Lynn and Dave are watching an old Kenneth More film and we then all dig into a salad. I have my usual Sunday afternoon sleep in the bath, and lay on the bed viewing the ceiling for half an hour or so. John doesn't return from his picnic and I make my own way to the Hare at 8.30. Andy arrives at the same time, but the turnout is unusually low. Just Andy, Christine D, and Carole, who comes straight from Norfolk at about 9 o'clock. John and 'George' do make a flying appearance, but when I say flying I mean flying. Judy, with whom I was once very close (see Diary, May 3, 1974) calls in at the Hare, but doesn't speak, and neither do I. The remaining four of us move on to the Fox in Andy's car, where we stay for the last drink. After depositing Christine at home we come back to our place for a coffee. Andy seems to think we should arrange another camping expedition before the end of September, but I fear the weather won't hold out much longer. The smell of autumn is already in the air. I sit snuggled up against Carole on the sofa. __________.Andy took her home at about 11.30 and I retired to bed.

This pub business is exciting me. The Menston Arms may well be ours before the month of September is out, and I'm building my hopes on it. However, Ron was saying it's better to get a poor pub and build it up because you can only go one way then. A pub with a good reputation is a good deal harder to retain in the same standard.



Saturday August 30, 1975

Wake at about 11.30 and hear Mum talking with CB downstairs. Poor Mum takes these overnight visitations from my friends very well, and I'm sure no other mother in the world is more understanding.

Please don't think it odd that though I'm going out with someone Christine can still come up and stay the night. She always sleeps on a camp bed in the dining room, and the only reason why she stays in the first place is because it's impossible for her to get home after we've been to Wikis - other than by taxi that is, which is far too expensive. She leaves before I get up, and Mum and Dad drop her off in Guiseley before going on to the wedding of Philip, one of Dad's young policemen friends.

The day is cold and rainy, and after sitting about listening to the record player for over an hour Maria rings me and asks me to go round to plant the little bush I gave her the other day. I go round at 2 and receive a conducted tour of the garden of 14, Ridgeway, Tranmere Park, by Mrs Molly Macdonald, the noted Irish conversationalist and wit. I then spent an hour listening to Mrs M's childhood reminiscences which have me, 'George' and Pam Moffatt in stitches. At 5pm it's much too wet to walk home so Mr Macdonald brings me home in the car.

To the Hare & Hounds at 8.30. Dave has gone to the dogs - quite literally - to the greyhound racing in Leeds with his Dad, and the rest of the gang, including Chris, stay at the Hare until about 10.30 when we all move on to the Fox. After a chase through Ilkley looking for Martyn Cole, whose birthday it is, we all end up at the Cow & Calf. Dance ourselves to death and decide I must have danced away three and a half stones this weekend. Back to Peter Mather's place until 4.30am. Andy brings us home in style.


Friday August 29, 1975

Friday night on the town once again. We go down to the Hare & Hounds as usual. When I say 'we' I mean me and David. Since John got possession of the Spitfire I've been excluded from his chauffeuring activities, so good old David always offers to do the honours at weekends. Carole is away for the weekend, in Norfolk visiting relatives, and so I'm free for a couple of nights. Christine beamed when she heard of it.

David and I took turns to buy rounds at the bar and I can't help being amused by David drinking port. At the mention of port I think of some bloated Horace Walpole-type figure sitting about on a Queen Anne sofa, with his gout-ridden leg reclining on a cushion. David is attracting a sizeable girth at the moment, but he just laughs off any attempts to tell him of this. Nobody can get David to go to Wikis, and even Peter Mather's offer of money is refused.

Christine B, Christine D, Peter M and I went to Wikis and CD and I danced continuously from 11.50 until 2am. I nearly died when at 1am the DJ roped Christine and I into doing the competition which consisted of blowing up a balloon until it burst - well, he told me it was a balloon, but I can assure you it wasn't. After standing on a floodlit stage inflating items of a contraceptive nature, CD and I continued to dance for another hour.Tired and shagged out I walked up Thorpe Lane with CB and CD. CB stayed the night.


Thursday August 28, 1975

Meet Carole on the 6.30pm 55 bus and go up to Yeadon to see 'Barry Mackenzie Holds His Own' at the cinema. I saw it a month ago with David and Christine but I feel that all films starring Barry Humphries warrant a second visit. I did thoroughly enjoy it, and think Carole was quite amused, though not over the moon about it. The cinema was horribly hot and we kept getting funny looks and glares from the other film-goers when we hooted with laughter, and I can assure you that when Carole laughs she certainly makes sure everyone knows about it. Once again she excelled herself tonight and dressed as though she was going to a Buckingham Palace garden party. Everything about her it just what I like in a bird. I only hope we'll last out OK. She is a Scorpio, which does make her my type - like Sarah for instance - and I'm in constant fascination of her.

On the subject of Sarah. She departed for Corfu late tonight, and so I won't be seeing her two weeks. I have given up altogether with her. She is a darling but doesn't need me at all and I see no point in persuing someone who isn't interested in me.


Wednesday August 27, 1975

Out with Carole to the Hare and Hounds at 8.30pm. Christine finished with Richard Wellock some ten minutes after my arrival and then told me she was horribly jealous of Carole and hates the idea of seeing us together. It's bloody ironic, isn't it? She kept saying she understood how I felt when she was going out with Gary. I just stand open mouthed, lost for words. Obviously, I don't tell Carole because I realise no love is lost between them and this item of information isn't going to improve things at all. However, I do say to CB that Carole and I are getting on tremendously and when she asks me what my feeling are for CP I say I'm very fond. At this, Christine proceeds to drink herself into a drunken state and words like 'swine' and 'cow' and 'pig' are hurled in my direction.

Carole doesn't let me see her home and insists in waiting until I'm on the bus, which is like June B all over again. Get a 33 with Christine Dibb and Christine B, and all we can get out of CB is a constant long drawn out sigh and she looks at me like an injured spaniel. To Harry Ramsden's with CD and we walk up Thorpe Lane stuffing ourselves.

Poor Christine. Are we fated to adore each other without doing anything about it?


Tuesday August 26, 1975

I appear to have contracted a cold since coming home from sun-soaked Majorca. My throat feels like its been cut, and my head is completely blocked. Lots of people seem to be suffering from similar ailments at the moment and I'm sick and tired of standing around listening to people saying: "Oh, something's wrong when you get colds in the middle of summer." &c, &c. I absolutely refuse to believe that the weather controls, or is in any way involved, with illnesses, death, or anything else remotely connected with the human metabolism. Poppycock and balderdash.

You aren't going to believe this, but while we were away _______ began making visits to Pine Tops once again. I nearly fell over laughing when Mum told me what excuse my beloved ____ used on being asked why she hadn't communicated with us since Christmas. It was 'Oh, I've been too busy doing a lot of baking.' Actually ______ is in Highroyds suffering from a mental disorder and the whole family seems to have lost weight and seelp over it. They came at about 8 after visiting ______, and I did notice a marked difference in ____, who looked considerably thinner. ____is becoming colossal - a mixture between Tessie O'Shea and Hattie Jacques, all rolled in with Princess Mary Adelaide, Duchess of Teck.


Monday August 25, 1975

Holiday in England, N. Ireland & Wales. Back to the office. Ugh. The fact that it's Bank Holiday Monday makes it worse because the thought of everyone staying in bed until noon whilst I struggled across a deserted town was far from pleasant.

See Sarah and Kathleen and they both agree that I'm a tremendous colour. Work until 1pm and then Kathleen lets me go. I get the 55 bus with Sarah and arrive home at about 2 o'clock. The weather is still quite warm, but I don't sit out in it when I arrive home. I've had enough after 2 weeks in Majorca and 2 full weeks lying around in the sun.

Sue is watching a rotten film starring W.C. Fields, which is cronic. I devour beans on toast, and then see a Marx Brothers film 'Duck Soup' which is hilarious in parts.
Groucho should be knighted in the New Year's Honours list. If Charlie Chaplin can be (knighted), I fail to see why Groucho can't.

No much in the news whilst I've been away. Some nutter saw fit to dig up the Headingley cricket pitch in the middle of the Test Match, which seems a bit of a silly thing to do, and the historic event to beat all other historic events is the re-union of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. They're going to re-marry, and at the moment they're carrying on like a pair of 16 year-olds with the first pangs of love!


Sunday August 24, 1975

13th after Trinity. Down to the Commercial at lunchtime. Just John and I that is, where we met Andy and Keith, and a snobby friend of Andy's. The pint of lager was something of an anti-climax, because I've been longing for a drop of English ale for two weeks, and this tasted no different to the German brew, flowing like water across Spain.

People were eyeing my tan with more than a hint of jealousy. Neither Andy or Keith stayed until 2. They left before closing time!

After lunch (with wine) John and I went down to Maria's where I met Carole for the first time in a month. She really is a gorgeous looking thing, and trendy too. She reminds me of one of those models on the cover of a girls magazine. Go on, I know what you're thinking: 'Oh no, he's infatuated again'. Well, probably I am.

Mum and Dad are on an excursion of South Yorkshire, and Lynn and Dave are watching TV. At 8.30 John drives me to Maria's where I meet Carole and then set off to Christine D's on Thorpe Lane. Mrs Dibb takes the three of us to the Hare & Hounds. See all the mob and stand close to Carole all night. It was awful when CB said she was jealous of us. I'm speechless, because when I was free to go out with her (CB that is) she wouldn't.


Saturday August 23, 1975

Homeward bound. Up with the larks at 7am, and sit about nervously for one and a half hours until the coach comes. John and Chris went down for breakfast, but I couldn't possibly face it. I sat in the empty lounge watching the rain and the waves crashing upon the beach, and the wind howling around the swimming pool and thinking to myself 'Oh God, will the plane make it?' We leave for Palma on the coach at 8.30 and we sit on the back seat along with Gary, Beaky, and Casanova, which is quite a laugh.

On our arrival in rain-soaked Palma we are met by Prince Juan Carlos who says he's sorry that General Franco couldn't come in person to see us off personally, but at 82 years-old he feels too frail to chase about airport forecourts, which is quite understandable really. After the military band send off we're flying at 27,000 feet over Europe at an air speed of 480MPH. We have whisky on the flight, and I feel quite sick over France, but the highlight of the whole thing was landing. Over the Channel John and Chris wanted to go to the bog, and so I pinched Chris's window seat and saw the south of England and London from 30,000 feet up. A tremendous sight. A few people looked queazy, but I managed to keep everything down.

Chris got a coach to King's Cross and John and I were left to find our own way out of Heathrow, which was an aggravating hours chase. After getting a bus to Victoria we find we have four hours to kill in London. Buckingham Palace, No 10, Downing Street, the Houses of Parliament, St James's Park, and God knows how many other places came under our exhausted gaze, and we were so glad to see the coach at 6pm. Four hours and 10 minutes later Mum and Dad met us in Leeds, and 20 minutes after that we were at Pine Tops. Lynn and Dave, Sue and Peter came on the scene minutes later, and we all tucked in to a decent bit of Mama's cooking. After dishing out the bottles (of duty frees) we proceeded to empty a few, and I rolled into bed at 1.30. To quote Casanova: "Well, it's certainly nice to be here." And I think that sums it all up.


Friday August 22, 1975

Our last day here, and what sort of weather do you think we had? Well, I'll tell you. It rained, and rained, and absolutely pissed it down all day long, and the three of us sat around in the bar ridding ourselves of our last few pesetas on drink.
The German party got themselves into a drunken state, but I suppose they do it without thinking. The licensing laws in 'bier' swilling Hamburg will differ somewhat to those in Harrogate.

After dinner we sit with Sue and Jackie (the sheilas from London) but John and Chris tire easily of their company, leaving me with two drunken women on my hands. Before I know what is happening they have me on my feet and are dragging me off to the Caracola Club, where they proceed to pay my admission. I didn't really want to stay long because of the travelling tomorrow and so I sneaked out at about 1.30, knowing I'd never see any of them again. Sad, really.

Oh, by the way: the big, blue lounger with Queen Anne legs was deposited by me into the lift and despatched to the ground floor in the early hours of Aug 23rd. It finished off my evening nicely.