3rd after Trinity. Awoke at 11.30 and feel quite refreshed and cheery for the first time in two days. On the coach last night I calculated that in the space of 24 hours I'd only had two hours sleep. However, I could never miss the Trooping of the Colour, and any loss of sleep is well worth it.
Oh, by the way. In Carnaby Street yesterday it cost me £1 for John and I to have our photograph taken by a shady little character. We left him with our names and adress, handed over the money, and watched him disappear into the crowd laughing his head off. Whether we'll ever see our photos is a debatable point, but one thing's for sure, these Londoners can spot tourists and smell the money at a distance of 600 yards. You should have seen the bee-line he made for us through the crowd!
Heard from poor Mum this morning that she bumped the Toyota yesterday afternoon. Evidently, she had a collision with the Vicar of Burley's car, and the paint's been scratched down one side. She was terribly upset yesterday, and to bring her round they, that is Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter, took her out to Burley House for a meal. She says Dad took it beautifully.
To reflect back to yesterday again, I think I'd better say something about why I felt so rotten. Admittedly I'd had a boozy do at Wikis, and only two hours sleep, but when I awoke at 5am the pillow case was covered in blood from my nose, and since then I've had 'pins and needles' down one side of my face. The sort of feeling you get after an injection at the dentist. I'm going to see a doctor tomorrow evening. It's quite worrying really.
Christine rang at 2pm and we're going out tonight. She went to the Cow and Calf last night with Christine D and Carol S - I can imagine the time they must have had! What a combination.
Go to the Hare with John at 8.30. No ale or lager at all due to the dispute, so I start on tomato juices. Christine is in a foul mood and I get depressed when she mopes uselessly over Gary. We move on to the Yorkshire Rose, that is Christine, Carol, 'George', John and I. Outnumbered by women! A remarkable phenomenon indeed. After one drink (half a lager) at the Yorkshire Rose, we move on to the Station on Henshaw Lane. A miserable night really.
The great day here again. Dad wakes us at 5am and after consuming one cup of tea between the two of us we chase down the lane, John driving the cortina of course, to the Station Hotel, where we wait for the coach to London. This is the fourth consecutive trip to the Trooping the Colour I've been on - '72, '73, '74 and '75. John has accompanied me on the last three.
Besides being the Queen's official birthday it is also David's 20th. I have despatched a card to Worcester conveying my best wishes. Knowing poor David, he'll hate the thought of waving bye bye to his teens, but it comes to all of us in the end.
We mount the coach and off and away. We aim to meet Chris outside the Odeon opposite Hyde Park Corner at 10am. Alas, this is not to be. The ruddy thing catches fire or something (the coach) and we are sat in a lay-by from 6.30 until 8. The horror of knowing at 10am that Chris was waiting for us when we were still 50 miles from London just ruined everything. John slept all the way, and I felt hideously tired.
Get into London at 11.25 or something and we go straight to the palace where we see the Queen return from the Trooping. The Queen Mother and Princess Margaret and all the rest were in open landaus as usual. I could hardly enjoy any of it in the state I was in. Sweating like a pig, and weak at the knees. It was so hot, humid and cloudy too.
At 1pm after the (RAF) flypast we staggered to Carnaby Street (via the tube of course) where we had a few drinks (me on coke) until 3. We then rang home to get Chris's hotel phone number and then contacted the hotel leaving a message telling Chris to meet us at the Tiger Bar before 9pm, when we would have to leave.
At about 4 o'clock I was too tired to do anything other than lay down, and so we made our way to the Tower. At first we sat on a bench opposite HMS Belfast, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. We both went to the garden of rest, a memorial for all the merchant seamen killed in the two World Wars, and I slept soundly for an hour. At 6 we went in to the Tiger Bar, where I had a few pernods, cokes and tomato juices. MET CHRIS AT 8O'CLOCK. Success at last! We handed over the £180 holiday money and had a few more drinks. Our coach left at 9pm. But at least we achieved our aim. I'd given up hope of ever seeing Chris at all.
A change in thw weather which can only be expected when I take a day off work. Up at 9am and have a coffee and play the stereo at full volume for about an hour. No one else in the house to complain so I might as well make the most of it.
I meet Christine outside the Hare and Hounds at 11.30 and after consuming one drink in that saintly shrine, we move on to Otley where the pubs are open all day because of the market (as I've already explained see 10/6/75). In Otley until 4. I'm on special strength lager and after four hours of the stuff I quite naturally feel sloshed. Christine is drinking vodka and lime, then port, &c, so she doesn't get quite as pissed as the author (i.e. the author if this diary). She helps me to a bus and we head for home - Christine brandishing half a pound of minced beef. Why? I do not know. I'm almost sick on the bus, but that more than liberal dash of self-control prevents me from doing so. At home Mum cooks us a beautiful meal and keeps giving me strange 'have you been drinking?' type of looks. After tea, 6 o'clockish, we go to CB's where her Dad has just got back from hospital. She puts on my favourite dress (not MY favourite, you understand. I mean the dress of HERS which I think suits her the most). To the Hare and Hounds, the Black Bull (again) and Wikis. All nicely intoxicated but hating the idea of getting up at 5 o'clock to go to London. Bed at 3am with the prospect of two hours sleep ahead of me.
The weather remains phenomenal, but somehow I think it's going to decline slightly. Today's been even more humid and at 6 o'clock this evening whilst devouring tea I did notice the odd cloud messing about in the heavens.
Christine rang me at the YP and it's still on for 11.30 tomorrow. I didn't want to talk to her in detail because Sarah and Carol were glued to me and I felt acutely self conscious throughout. Everyone, that is Christine, Sarah and Carol dissolved into fits of laughter when I said to C that it sounded as though she was ringing from Guyana.
Anyway, I'm tired now and going to bed, but before I do I will mention something which may be of historic value in years to come. The disreputable newspaper, The Sun, today says that the Prince of Wales is dating Lady Alexandra Hay,daughter of the Countess of Erroll (a peeress in her own right I might add) and Sir Iain Moncrieffe of that Ilk, Baronet. She isn't pretty, but who am I to judge these things?
Unpleasant day. The weather was beautiful of course, but otherwise I hated it.
I went to Menston with John to help him with a little job he was doing. (Hell Fire! I haven't mentioned the fact that yesterday he took up employment as a maintenance joiner at Moon's Mill. Yes, Mum got him the job and he's on £10 a week more! Can't be bad.)
We messed about at this little job. He had me holding a piece of wood up against a wall while he drilled holes in it - until 8 o'clock when we made for home in order to get ready to go down to the Hare. Christine didn't ring me like she said she would and I'm doubtful about our sojourn on Friday morning.
Arrived at the Hare at 8.30 just as Christine and Mary are getting off the bus. She gets upset when Gary comes in with another woman goggle-eyed over him. "Why is he doing this to me?" she kept moaning. She then went off and stood with that blighter called Roger, who rarther fancies himself. At 10.30 our Friday meeting is on, but she doesn't seem happy with me. AFTER SAYING GOODBYE to Roger, she departed for home, refusing a lift from John, but getting a lift from someone else whom I failed to recognise.
Still the same old summer sunshine. What is happening? Are we actually going to have one whole week of nice weather? I'll let you know whether we have or not on Thursday.
Home from the YP at my usual hour after informing Kate of my intended day off on Friday. Christine and I are nipping off to Otley on that day, where the pubs are open all the time because of market day. So you'll understand how elated I feel. Pubs open all day and having Christine all to myself!
Saw Queen Victoria die tonight in 'Edward VII'. The series will be hopeless without Annette Crosbie parading about, but I remain a dedicated follower all the same.
Bed at 10.30. Oh, before I go, I think I'll say something about the Royal Household. Why? Well, don't you think it strange that no less than three members of that institution (Royal Household) have died within the short space of two weeks? I do anyway. The first was Lady Margaret Hay, a Woman of the Bedchamber to the Queen since 1947, and one of HM's most closest friends. The second was Lord Plunkett, another pal of the Queen and deputy master of the Household. The third was Admiral Sir Christopher Bonham-Carter, a chief for many years of the Duke of Edinburgh's household. So quite naturally, the surviving members of the Royal Household will be betting on who is next to go.
A beautiful summer day, but it's back to work for the working classes. Nothing really devastating in the news other than the rehearsal for Saturday's Trooping the Colour. The Prince of Wales, in the guise of colonel of the Welsh Guards, took the salute in the place of the Queen, who never attends her own rehearsals.
Sarah is back from Spain looking quite tanned, and I can't say I'm not pleased to see her once again. Things just don't seem right without her around. Like all my relationships, the one with Sarah is platonic, only more so.
Later that night: John drags me off to the Yorkshire Rose for a quick one, then down to the Hare for another quick one, then home and sat in front of the TV before 9.30. Not bad going, eh?
2nd after Trinity. Yet another scorching day. Up at 11.30 when Christine rang. She'll be in the Hare & Hounds at her usual hour. I am quite besotted with her, and the whole of my life revolves around seeing her. She would never believe that of course, but who ever takes me seriously anyway?
At 12 Chris calls for us. He leaves for London again at 5pm - and we go down to the Commercial for a lunchtime pint. Dave B and his 16 year-old brother are already supping, sat on the roof of his car. We join them. The horrid thing about that place is seeing all the fantastic cars pulling into the car park. It's like Tate's Show rooms. (Tate of Leeds are a big car dealers in these parts).
Home at 2 for lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. This afternoon was passed in a deckchair. Must have been the nicest afternoon of the year, not counting yesterday's liaison with CB of course. Mum, Dad and Lynn were also lazing on the lawn and poor John and Dave B were slaving away on the wreck of John's automobile.
To the Hare with John and Christine at 8.30. She isn't cheerful at all and says we shouldn't be going out until she has had the chance to forget Gary. How can she forget him when she keeps trotting down to the Hare to get a gimpse of him? She isn't even trying to forget him. Dave and Lynn come down and drive us to the Royalty, with the car hood down, but we change our minds when we're half way there, and come back to the Hare. Leap on a 33 bus with CB at 11pm and get off at White Cross after kissing her (on the cheek) a hurried bye bye.