Scorcher again. Don't feel really tired at the YP and have a great time with Sarah. Kathleen is on holiday and Sarah's the regent in her absence as it were. At lunchtime we go out on the Barclaycard scive. I draw £4 out and borrow £10 off Sarah, then draw £10 out and give her it back. That girl must really fancy me, you know, because how many girls would invest £10 in a boy and come out with the words: 'I'm not bothered when I get it back, so long as I have some before July 7'. Goodness overfloweth, indeed.
After visiting the bank she takes me to the hairdresser, Nicky & Carlo in the Empire Arcade and I actually have my hair cut! Historic occasion indeed. Return to work looking a new man. Both girls there like it, and I must admit, I feel a lot better for it.
Home at teatime to find Uncle Harry reclining on the lawn. It is nice to see him, and since learning of his successful attempt to escape the clutches of the police force he looks pounds better. I sit on the lawn with him, Mum and Dad, and they all approve of my haircut.
At 8 we go to the Menston Arms and argue all night about people like President John Kennedy of the USA, and whether he'll ever be canonised as a saint or not, because somehow I think he will. The first Catholic US president will not go unrecognised, you mark my words.
4th after Trinity. Hot and fine. Up at about 11 o'clock for a meagre cooked breakfast, and Mum is going on about us going round nexy door for cocktails or something. Since the Smiths left last week we've had very little to do with the new tenants, although I can't say I haven't noticed the daughter, because I most certainly have. We shall have to watch things in that direction.
No doubt you'll all be wondering about Christine and me. Well, it's difficult really. Until Gary finished with her I was besotted and beside myself with passion for her, but with me having the roving eye that I have I seem to have cooled as of late. Sarah creates a problem because I have always had a spot somewhere inside for her, and that fact that Sarah, Carol, John and I are going out on Saturday doesn't help me at all really. Oh, I'm saying no more about that anyway.
After deciding not to go round to the neighbours after all, John and me go down to the Commercial, where Chris and Christine are waiting for us. We have one drink and then say bye bye to Chris until next weekend. Christine comes back to Pine Tops and we lounge on the lawn until after 'Pick of the Pops' finished at 7. She likes me even more now, and as Gary is fading I'm becoming all the more stronger.
Linda's party tonight: Go with Peter M, Lumsden, Raymond and John. The only girls allowed other than the college girls are Carol and Helen. Get quite pissed on cider and the thing lasts until about 3am but I don't want to write much about it. However, I will say it was better than I thought it would be, and we had a great time.
Another scorching day. Absolutely beautiful and I honestly think that 1975 may be a decent summer after all.
Dave B comes over at 12 and he, Lynn and myself go down to Guiseley for fish and chips and then over the road to the Station Hotel where we cool off under a large umberella, and drink nice, cool lager.
At 2pm we make our way to Fieldhead School, where the so-called Summer Fair is under way. John comes down with 'George' and her Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Prince. A smashing little dog he is, and he's quite taken with John. 'George' assures me that the dog is quite sane really and he only likes John because he's confusing him with her older brother, Jack.
The crowd goes once again to the Fox and Hounds, and then we decide to go to the Cow & Calf for a change, so we move to the Lister's Arms first for a quick one. Have a hysterical time with the two Christines - so funny together.
At the Cow: Get drunk on cider and end up pouring a pint over Christine D - she then throws her drink over me - we're in a right state. No hard feelings are felt though and we dry out very quickly. I'm quite successful in chatting up the lady who looks after the coats, and she is put through the agony of wearing my braces, which I tighten up incredibly far. Everyone finds it hilarious that I'm closeted with her after 2am. John was quite worried & wondering where I'd gone.
A scorching day. Too hot by far to stand around in pubs and such like, but I do all the same.
Because of the closure of the Hare we all meet in the Fox again and I nearly pass out in the heat. Christine and Mary come down, and the drivers consult one another about the choice of the next pub on which to pay a call. They decide on the Malt Shovel in Menston, so we all depart thereto. Stand with Christine and Mary all night really, because John is so taken over by 'George' - it's quite incredible. How he's managed to forget Naomi so soon astounds me. Sue and Peter are also with us, and they are absolutely first class. No complaints at all about them.
Eight people were allocated to the cortina for the return journey, and you'll have to see tomorrow's entry for the consequences. John took Christine to Mary's place in Yeadon, where she's spending the night, and he also ferries Christine D to her villa on Thorpe Lane.
Sue, Pete and me fall about at home in hysterics in the lounge. I was rarther intoxicated. High spirits ruled the closing events of the day.
Twenty-one years ago today Lawrence Rhodes took it upon himself to take Miss Nora Wilson for his wedded wife. Pudsey Parish Church hasn't been the same since.
On my arrival home from work an anniversary tea awaited me. The Royal Albert tea set was splashed all over the table, along with salmon sandwiches and delicacies of all manner of description. Mum and Dad had spent the day in Otley - shopping - and she's now the proud owner of several new dresses, and the proud bearer of a new 'hair do'.
They go out for a meal later on, and haven't returned by the time I hit the sack. Living it up no doubt. Only four more years to go until the Silver Wedding. Do I forsee a grand occasion in Westminster Abbey?
I'm not going to fill in today's entry because it's now more than a week after June 18, and I'll be damned if you expect me, a mere human being when all's said and done, to attempt to remember what I actually did on that distant day.
Oh, I've just remembered. It is the anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, and it's also two years to the day since I burst the fly on my trousers in the Fleece. June Bottomley will receive her safety pin in due course, although I doubt very much whether she'll appreciate it. I don't care anyway.
Bright, but showery day. The Indian Summer I thought we may be having is only a flight of fancy after all.
Doing the obits at the YP I see that Sir Richard Colville, press secretary to the Queen from the year dot until 1968, died on Saturday. (Lady) Margaret Hay, Lord Plunket, Admiral Sir C. Bonham-Carter, and now Sir Richard. As I keep saying, the few surviving members of the Royal Household will be drawing lots to see who's next. It's becoming quite serious really.
It's been a bloody horror taking those pills. Old Ludlow is obviously trying to finish me off by choking me to death with them in order to save me from the path of utter misery and painful illnesses which lie ahead. But seriously, they're about the size of a standard dustbin lid and they're a repulsive chocolate colour. I feel quite sick just looking at them.
Received a note from Christine. Written across the back of the envelope were the words: 'prepare yourself for a serious letter', which quite worried me at first, because I thought she might have done something foolishly hideous like stick her head in the gas oven or something. The mood she's been in lately, it wouldn't surprise me at all. She even mentioned the idea of emigrating to New Zealand!
At 7.30 John mentioned the Morris Dancers being at the Hare tonight. He rounded up Sue and Peter, who wanted to see what Morris Dancers were actually like - never having had the experience before. I also quite fancied the idea. However, on our arrival at the Hare we found the door bolted and a CLOSED sign on the front door. The Tetley strike's closed down the Hare! John was shattered. The four of us went to the White Cross, wherethe beer was awful, but we had a laugh sitting on the wall outside. Sue and Pete really do get on so well.
Back at home at 8.30 to see 'Edward VII' on ITV again. No Annette Crosbie but it was good all the same. Saw the 10 o'clock news and the ever increasingly enthralling Lucan scandal. Somehow I think something fishy is goin on with the Lucan business, but what exactly I don't know. Bed at 11 o'clock.
The numbness in my face is going off slightly, but I ring and make an appointment with old (Dr) Ludlow all the same. I might as well get my moneys worth out of the National Health Service.
Nothing of great interest in the news other than the re-opening of the sensational Lucan Case in London. I doubt very much whether any of us will ever hear of the Earl (of Lucan) again, and so it's an open and shut case, as it were.
Last Friday's Daily Mail had a piece about the Prince of Wales and Lady Jane Wellesley again. The will insist on linking the poor prince romantically with that ____ Radio Times researcher, who disgraces the very name of the august Iron Duke. If he, the prince that is, ever makes Lady J his princess I will take off all my clothes and parade around the garden in a nude form as a sign of protest. I'm not joking either.
Go see old Ludlow at 5.20. He sticks a massive metal instrument up my nose and peers up it and gives the occasional grunt. He then gives me a large jar of brown pills - quite the biggest things I've ever seen - and a few capsules to inhale. Hate going to the doctors. But the numbness was quite disturbing really. At work Sarah laughed when I said I probably had only six months left to live. I know it'sa terrible thing to say. I'm quite tempting fate in saying things like that, but one should always look non the funny side of life, and even more so the funny side of death.