Google+ Badge


Sunday May 4, 1975

Rogation Sunday. A beautiful day. Up and out at 11.30 and fall into a deckchair in the garden until lunchtime. John has been idiotic since his breach with Naomi and I hope for all our sakes that he'll soon pull round because quite honestly he's making life hell for me. It niggles me the way he only thinks about ale and cars - I suppose he thinks he should behave like that when he surrounds himself with such bores as ____. John's even talking like him now. Boasting about all the near misses he's had in the car and how he screeched the brakes, &c, &c. The horrific thing is that one day they'll be no near miss and the world will be minus another human being. Tragic it really is.

Heard last night that Christine went home from the Hare early because Gary didn't arrive to see her. He uses that poor girl horribly. Treats her like dirt, and she puts up with it. I still feel a lot for her, and she refuses to believe me, or at least refuses to acknowledge it. She's known for years (2 at least) how much I admire her, but somehow hates the idea of anything coming of it.

On Friday before going into work I took 'King George VI' back to Leeds Library and took out 'Jennie: Lady Randolph Churchill' by Anita Leslie. Quite a good book and I realise that the TV series starring Lee Remick was taken almost word for word from Miss Leslie's book.

At about 4 Uncle Peter and family call to see us. My peaceful rest on the lawn with Lady Randolph is disrupted by Peter's delightful daughters - who are sweet really. I ended up playing 'tig' with them, much to the amusement of Dave, who is working on his car on the drive. Peter is one of my favourite uncles. _______.Lovely day, and we are all a lot more healthy for the sunshine.


Saturday May 3, 1975

John wakes me at about 11.30 and I feel quite rotten again. Headache and sore throat. On making enquiries I discover that we're all the same in the house. John, in the car, departs in the direction of Horsforth. He's going to Chris's then down to Charlie Brown's for some car tyres or something.

I do most of the housework. (Just thought I'd slip that in, and I'd like to make it quite clear that I'm proud of it. Men who can't do the ordinary household chores are pathetic). Play a few records but feel as though my head is about to explode.Mum and Dad come back from Bradford and they say they feel the same. Mum kept saying that we might have a gas leak or something, but surely if this was the case we'd all be unconscious or dead?

This evening was one of the most nasty, uncomfortable affairs I've ever really experienced. To start with, John went to collect his idol ___ and he was persuaded to call in at the revolting Station 'just for a quick one'. I had a pint of Guinness which ruined my evening because it stuck in the pit of my stomach like three tons of reinforced concrete. After collecting Linda, Carol and Miss Dibb we made our way to the Devonshire Arms near Bolton Abbey - a most hideous tavern, full of old clapped-out idiots in tweed trousers. From then on things went down hill and the gang ended up in Burnsall. I was with Lynn and Dave and noticed the horror on Mr Baker's face at the mileage we were doing. When petrol is 70p a gallon I couldn't agree more with him. Never again.


Friday May 2, 1975

I saw Harold Macmillan on the TV last night and I must say that he's made my mind up once and for all on this referendum nonsense. I always said that I would never vote in any referendum, because it's an unlawful abomination, yet the TV and the papers had almost made me change my mind. I would have voted for staying in, but that's besides the point. No, Mr Macmillan convinced me that it would be a disgrace to vote on June 5. What is the point in having a Houses of Parliament when they are just going to hand over all important decisions to us. And let us face it, the Common Market isn't a matter of life and death. We have gone through two world wars and we, that is the ordinary plebs, were never given the chance to state our views on that subject. Good old Harold Macmillan. They don't make 'em like him anymore.

Work at 5pm. I never object to working nights until the actual day comes along, when it's all too late to do anything about it. Friday night without Wikis is just pure, unadulterated Hell.

On my arrival at that saintly place, the Yorkshire Post, I settle down for an extremely quiet night. See nobody until 12 and the only convseration I really have is with the telephone operator when booking my taxi. Pinch a picture from the throw-out drawer of Barbra Streisand - the sexiest thing I've ever had the pleasure to see on the screen.

On my arrival home I dig out a picture frame from underneath a pile of rubbish in my cupboards and Miss Streisand is formally established on the table near my bed.

David B has had the photos developed from the orgy we had after my birthday. Some brilliant ones of me the morning after!

John is in bed when I eventually climb the stairs. Mum stays he staggered in at 11.45pm with blurred vision and a slow, slurred voice. Pissed he was. Lucky swine.


Thursday May 1, 1975

Almost completely recovered now. I thought I'd be laid low with pnuemonia by the end of the week but luckily it won't be so. Pay day again. My wage isn't all that cronic really, and I know I'm always complaining of lack of funds, but if I earned £7,000,000 per week I'd still be moaning and groaning by Wednesday night.

I informed Kathleen today that I want, and indeed will have no matter what, Friday June 13, off. This will mean that I can travel down to Windsor on Friday morning - go out with John, Sheila and even Chris - then go into London early on the Saturday morning for the Trooping the Colour escapades in the Mall. It would mean me having to return home on the Sunday to be back at the YP on the following morning.

Chris goes to Windsor at the very beginning of June until December, and I can't help feeling envious. If Utopia or Paradise really exists I somehow think that Windsor will not be far away.

News items: Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones is eleven years-old today. Saigon fell to the communists yesterday and is now Ho Chi Minh City or something equally hideous. Princess Anne and Capt Mark Phillips are stranded in the Australian outback after plane trouble. The Queen left Jamaica after the Commonwealth PM's Conference and is now on the way to Japan with the duke for an official visit.

This Princess Anne thing sounds funny. I can just imagine the Royal party stuck there with the sun blazing down. Is wallaby edible I wonder?

Papa is still doing the lounge, and I must admit it looks brilliant.


Wednesday April 30, 1975

Feel much better today but am not too happy yet about my throat. My nose is clear, but I fear the contamination will creep down to my chest. It always does.

Good day really - Kathleen was off again - she always is lately, and I must admit that the atmosphere is a lot better without her dashing around finding unnecessary jobs for everyone to do. These women will do absolutely anything to get out of taking life at a leisurely pace.

Home at 5.20 to find Mama preparing the lounge for the coming onslaught of dust-sheets and paint cans. After tea I help Dad splash a bit of emulsion around and manage to watch a 'St Trinian's' film and a good documentary about the death of Hitler in between. Hitler died 30 years ago this week.

Whilst I was making busy in the lounge John was busily drinking with Chris and Co in several of Guiseley's ale houses. I rarely miss Wednesdays supping sessions, but today, mainly for financial reasons, I decided it would be wise to do so.

(Christine rang at work to say that Maura isn't joining me for a drink at lunchtime tomorrow. She gave no excuse, and I suppose Christine's been having words with her. I'll say no more about that.)

Before leaping into the bath I talk with Dad about me buying his car! Yes, actually buying a motor vehicle. He says I'll be the first on the list when the times comes for him to sell, and Mum agrees that it would be a good idea. I'm pulling myself together at last. I know I've always let life slip by without even realising - so unlike John - but the time is now ripe for meto begin a new trend.


Tuesday April 29, 1975

Feeling grotty and fear that a cold is creeping upon me. All day my throat's been sore, and a funny cracking sound affects my ears everytime I swallow. My sinuses aren't too good either. Detest feeling like this and hope and pray that a sudden recovery will soon be achieved.

Discover at the YP that I'm down for working on Friday night. Not that it matters and I do suppose it's a blessing in disguise really. What with the holiday pay-up date looming on the horizon, and the prospect of another months Barclaycard I'll need every single penny I can lay my hands on.

This afternoon I suddenly remembered that Jon Lesser (David's room-mate at Worcester)wanted some photostats of the Selby Coalfield development, and so I flew round the office with panic burning in my eyes in the attempt to find his address. Eventually I succeeded and delegated the job of doing the photostats to Eileen. Jon is a good bloke really. David never ceases to torment him, but he only does it in fun of course. It strikes me that David always needs a 'Jon Lesser' wherever he is. When in Guiseley his 'Jon Lesser' is John Rhodes, and he does anything to plague and chaff him. Also, the fact that Jon is _______is also a never ending source of amusement for David, who collects millions of ___jokes when he is on holiday, just so that he can lay in bed at night, when back in Worcester, and hurl them at his tortured room-mate. However, David Lawson will always be my dearest friend and until the end of my days his sense of humour and unparalleled wit will be of endless joy to me.


Monday April 28, 1975

Dull, but humid day. First day back at the YP since Apr 19, and I didn't feel like working at all. Not too busy actually. Have a laugh with Sarah about flags and when they should be flown. Even I got into a confusion about certain aspects of this. For instance, if a member of the Royal Family dies on the birthday of another member of the Royal Family, the Union Flag remains at full-mast unless a statement saying otherwise is released by the Palace. This what happened last June when the Duke of Gloucester died on the Duke of Edinburgh's birthday. Imagine the confusion if a member of the Royal Family died on St George's Day along with former Prime Minister Lord Avon and the Chilean head of state!

See in The Times that the new Duke and Duchess of Norfolk spent a few days with the Queen at Windsor last week. No doubt Her Majesty informed the duke that she'd give him the Garter as soon as one becomes available. They're normally announced on April 23, but I think the membership of the order is full up at present. By all accounts Uncle Miles won't have long to wait. Viscount Montgomery is far from well, and he's pushing 90 or so...

The decorating in the dining room is just about complete, and the lounge is next on the list. My fingers are quite itching for the feel of a paint brush, but we've no white emuslsion in storage at the moment.

The TV is boring tonight. I continue with 'George VI' by Wheeler-Bennett. The old king did a good deal towards making Anglo-American relations what they are today, with his friendship with President Franklin Roosevelt in the war years. I am an ardent monarchist and probably biased on the subject, but I fail to see why these anti-monarchist people cannot see that the Royal Family are the greatest ambassadors the world has ever seen. Prince Charles at this moment is doing what the Duke of Windsor did in the 1920s, and so little credit is given to him.


Sunday April 27, 1975

4th after Easter. Yet another beautiful day. Wake at about 11.30 and go down for a coffee. Sit glancing at the Sunday papers which I don't normally do because they're a load of old rubbish. See that the Labour party have voted with an enormous majority to pull out of the Common Market when this so-called referendum is thrust upon us in June. A tremendous blow it will be for the Prime Minister, and it wouldn't surprise me if he was to hand over all his powers to Wedgwood Benn. Then the Nation can relapse into total confusion and madness.

Everyone is talking about a camping trip at Whitsuntide, and so I'll have to save the pennies. Also, June 14 is the day that the holiday people want their money. Aaarrghh!

Depleted numbers out for a drink tonight. Just John, Chris, Carol and myself. After starting at the Hare we move on to the Station Hotel in Guiseley, where I've never set foot before. Don't like the place much. Move on to the Emmotts - horrible; then the Station on Henshaw Lane for the last one. The four of us have a good argument about politics. I try to persuade them not to vote in this coming referendum, and am pleased to hear that John and Carol agree with me that we shouldn't really be having one at all. Unconstitutional and pathetic it really is. Chris is of course a staunch Conservative and thinks we belong in the EEC - I quite agree with him, but refuse to believe that the British electorate should be allowed to make the decision. Harold Wilson just wants to pass the blame onto us when everything goes wrong.


Saturday April 26, 1975

Dad decorating the dining room aroused me from my slumbers at 1pm. Mum came in from the hairdressers and we had lunch immediately. Susan rang Peter to question him about last night and I couldn't help thinking how obnoxious and yak it would be to know a female would be ringing to get all the gruesome details off you the morning after. Let's hope I'll never be in that state.

Saw Maura and Marian last night, and Sandy Lawson. Indeed, it was my night for women. The most enjoyable __at Wikis for ages.

I'm glad I've been able to catch up at last with the diary. It's now about 6.30pm on April 26, so order is once again restored.

A beautiful day really. Cannot understand our weather. One week it snows, and the next week we are struck by a heatwave.

For 52 years the Queen Mother has been a member of our Royal Family. This day in 1923 the Duke of York married Lady Elizabeth Bowes Lyon and all's been well since. A true milestone in the history of Great Britain.

To the Hare at 8.30 and the gang go to Addingham on a minor pub-crawl. These are getting more regular as of late. Have a laugh with Christine White and Stuart (Newton), who are tremendous fun. Back to Pine Tops to see 'The Third Man'. A good film which always makes me think of Dad. He likes it so much.


Friday April 25, 1975

It's now about 2pm on April 26. Please forgive the entry for yesterday. To get back to the beginning of Friday: Awoke at 8.30 and went to breakfast for the first time. Devoured a few mediocre baked beans and some revolting bacon before idling back to Dave's room - intollerable heat conditions. The weather has made a dramatic change. David has persuaded me to use his British Rail student pass, which can get me a ticket home for half price. We rush through Worcester to Woolworths where I get a photo taken, then crawl to Shrub Hill Station in a nasty traffic jam, glueing my photo over that of David's on the way there. Get my ticket without any hitch and the train leaves immediately.

Home to Leeds at 3pm after a tiring journey. Pine Tops is achieved at about 4pm.

All the family well - it's nice to see them again. I don't often say it, but I do love them all.

To the Hare and the Commercial tonight. Beautiful evening and we stand in the Commercial car park. Sue and Peter are out with us and Peter joins the party to Wikis. Nice lad he is, and he and Sue seem inseperable. Except for tonight at Wikis that is. He rarely leaves her alone though.


Thursday April 24, 1975

Yes, it's still April 26. What can I possibly say other than that David and Pete Allen were on teaching practice and they deposited me in Birmingham for the day. (Well, 11.30 until 4pm). The ruddy weather was too unbearable for words. After tramping around the place, for the first time ever, I collapsed in the cathedral park and devoured several sandwiches. Went with Dave to HIS pub from 7pm till 11pm. He works therein Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Propped up the bar all night, and fell into bed exhausted at 11.30. John Lesser was entertaining and creating chaos all night, but I survived. Oh God! I'm too pissed to write any more. Yes, pissed, and I don't care who knows it. Ta Ta all.


Wednesday April 23, 1975

St George's Day. It's actually still about 2.50am on the morning of April 26 so I can't deny it. However, casting my mind back to this St George's Day does create certain problems. I could quite easily say that I've forgotten what exactly occurred on this day, but in saying so I'd be wrong because I know for a fact that in the evening of this day that David, Gordon (a college pal of David's)and I went to the Camp, where he took me in Dec. for the nice sandwiches, but the bread strike prevented the participation in such a delightful grapple. (OK, you don't understand any of this, but neither do I. After all, it's nearly 3 o'clock in the morning).

As I was saying, the three of us went to the Camp after messing around at college all day, and indulged in one or two drinks and admired the guinea fowl, which looked really succulent.

Honestly, this is an unearthly hour, and I do have two days entries to fill in and so I'll be turning over the page now. Bye Bye. (Now you know just what state I'm in when coming home from Wikis.)


Tuesday April 22, 1975

I'd be lying my soddin' head off if I was to say I was actually writing this on April 22, 1975. In fact, if you must know, it's about 2.30am on the morning of April 26. So once again, I beg forgiveness for this disgusting betrayal of journalistic rules.

Well, after safely arriving in Worcester the events of this day were truly magnificent in the extreme - in fact, never before have I enjoyed myself like I did this night. (Forgive the English, but it's 2.40 and I've just staggered in from Wikis).

At 10.30pm on April 22, David, Serena (a beauty from college), Carol (another dame from college), Lynn (another dame from college) and yours truly went to Sacha's Disco in Worcester. After supping gallons of vodka (it was a double for the price of one) we staggered back to college, taking two hours to do so, when ordinary, sober folks do the same walk in 25 minutes.

I cannot express what joyous feelings I have about this evening, though I know they will be forever imprinted on my mind. Michael Rhodes.


Monday April 21, 1975

Rainy, nasty day. The Queen's birthday. Uncle John says it would be advantageous to visit Windsor at this time because something is always happening.

I'm about to leave, with Dave, for Worcester. I do not intend taking the diary with me, because I'll have other things to do, and I don't like letting people in on the secret that I'm a day-to-day diarist. However, whilst I'm down yonder I will make the odd note or two so that I can come home and fill in the details, and indeed you'll not be able to tell I've been neglecting this truly historic record.

So, I'm on my way now. All packed and ready. Pity about the weather, but what do you expect in Britain in April? What do you expect of the weather in Britain at any time? Precisely.


Sunday April 20, 1975

3rd after Easter. Quiet day really. Do nothing other than watch the TV until some unearthly hour. Saw about six films in all. Idleness, pure unadulterated idleness.

John went out for his Sunday night ale supping session and so too did Mum and Dad. Sue and Peter were babysitting, which left me, Lynn and Dave in one another's company all night. Looking forward with rellish to tomorrow's excursion to Worcester. Dave is collecting me at about noon.


Saturday April 19, 1975

Rainy morning and I'm disappointed because yesterday seemed so promising. Conned into thinking Spring had really arrived.

The girls are at work and so too is Papa and Mama is at the hairdressers. John and I are playing records all morning until Mama comes in with chicken and chips for Sue, John and myself. I've done nothing but eat like a pig all day and it feels horrid. Too much food - it lies so heavily in the pit of ones tummy. What a weird word "tummy" is. So upper class.

Feel sorry for John who is a bit sick about Naomi and her daft proposition. I tell him of David's idea to go the Edwardian Club tonight and I think he'll come. The proudness of we Rhodeses will prevent him from going out with Naomi again I think. Once he thinks he's been used it's curtains for the young lady, and rightly so.

Christine rings at about 3. The bird is crazy. After last night's incident with Gary she says very little other than that she was crying just because she was drunk. I don't believe her. That lad has her under his thumb, and I loathe seeing them together.

John, in his mourning, goes off with Chris and the mob to the Dyneley Arms. David and I go to the Hare (me in John's suit) in expectation of arranging a party to go to the Edwardian. Only Martin (of Carol Smith fame) and Christine Dibb turn up, then Lynn and Dave of course. After two or three drinks we move on to the Black Bull in Otley - the best pub around. At chucking out time it's back to Pine Tops for coffee. Bed at 1.30.