Go for a drive around Otley and Ilkley this afternoon with Sue & Peter. They are a pair, well-matched too, if ever I saw one. Nip into the Hare at 2.45 for a quick drink. Sue has a gin which she says is disgusting at this hour of the day. Pete doesn't half have her on, but she loves having her leg pulled and knows just how to answer. She is a shrewd and very sweet comedienne. Lynn is much too like me for comfort.
At 4 Dave and Glen arrive.It sure is great to see them for the first time in four months. They bring holiday photographs which are tremendous - much better than Peter's. The ones with Pam are exceptional. I take the negatives to get copies of my own. The lads soon settle down with Mum and Dad and Sue. [Lynn and Dave are at Alison's in Winchester]. We take them to Harry Ramsden's for tea. They had never heard of the place. Mum and Dad, Sue & Pete, Margaret & Jim Nason go off for a meal at 7 and us three lads mess about until 8 when we WALK TO THE HARE! Martyn joined us at nine o'clock. We attempted to get a taxi to Oakwood [Hall] at 11 but had no luck & so we went by bus to Ilkley and then got a taxi from there. Dave and Glen can't stop talking about the holiday. Martyn is eager to go back to Ibiza next year and doesn't think Peter & Chris would be adverse to the idea.
Get a bit pissed at Oakwood at meet a nice girl called Paulette who comes and sits with me because a band of marauding Pakistanis are after her. Her big friend amuses me no end. Martyn is with his tarty new friend he met at the Stoney Lea last night. The lads had a good laugh and we all came back to Pine Tops at 2.30 where we ate cheese on toast and sat up for a couple of hours.
In bed until 11.30 when I'm stirred from my slumbers by the soddin' butcher with Mama's meat order. Still, I've had a good few extra hours 'neath the sheets. Listen to the record player until lunchtime and then leap into a good hot bath. Something of great importance about next years holiday. Late last night I received a phone call from Dave in Stockport asking if he and Glen can come over tomorrow. Great news. They'll be here at 4pm and they hope to stay until Sunday. It certainly looks as though they'll be booking with us for 1977 and a holiday in San Antonio again. We can't go in early June of course because of the Silver Jubilee lark. What about David L too? Martyn, Peter and Chris are the other likely holidaymakers. [This] subject is not yet mentioned to Lynne, but no doubt she'll be too busy saving for her Renault, or whatever car it is, to be interested of my whereabouts in July. Anyway, summer is one hell of a long way off and you all know only too well what I'm like with women.
Work at 5pm. Not feeling too good. Hope it isn't salmonella food poisoning. Quiet night at the YP with no historic news coming in. Saddened however to read in one of the gossip columns that Sir Harold W[ilson] may well be quitting the Commons to go an lecture in Israel. Talk about deserting the sinking ship! Home at 11.30 and watch a revolting film on Rasputin. It's completely distorted and ridiculous. I think a Hammer film.
Thanksgiving Day U.S.A. Busy at work again. Kathleen's 33rd birthday - what a horrible feeling that must be. Meet Dave B at the Ostlers for lunch and consume three pints of lager. He and Lynn are going to Alison's for the weekend and he tells me that the two of them are going away on holiday - in Britain - next summer. Is it wedding bells?
Lynne comes at 8 o'clock. She's getting on my bloody nerves lately and I feel that she's taking the piss all the time. She makes it obvious that she looks down on my family. Sneering at Lynn and laughing at Mum. She's forever criticising people and saying they are 'old fashioned' when she's just as bloody bad, if not worse. I can't stand much more of it. You may well be reading the diary of a single man by the New Year. Sorry about all this antagonistic chatter.
Down to the Hare & Hounds from 8.30 until 10 o'clock. Carole is in with [Peter] Fogarty and Lynne looks me straight in the eyes and says: "One day you two will get back together." I didn't bat an eye-lid.
Home at 11 and Lynne disappears over the horizon and God knows when I'll see her again.
Sarah says she thinks Peter [Baker] is a damned liar and can never trust him & that the whole relationship is on the rocks. Do you know why I am so content in that miserable dead-end hole, the [Yorkshire Post] library? I'll tell you. It's because of Sarah Elizabeth Collis. I'm sure I must love her. She is very much aware that I worship her. Funny, isn't it?
Tony rings tonight and enquires about my movements over the weekend. It's the first time I've heard from him since Saturday when he, Martyn and Stuart disappeared from Oakwood Hall at 1am or so. He says Stuart wasn't feeling too well and an emergency exit was necessary.
See the [British] Film Awards on TV. The Duchess of Kent actually went onto the stage and made a brief speech at the end of the show. An unusual move for royalty. They normally stand up, wave, and clear off.
Go to the library [Guiseley] with Mama at 7.30 an come home with a book on the wives of the Roman emperors. It's very good and I read 100 pages before midnight. Don't even think about having a bath or anything and by the time I realise what time it is I discover everyone has deserted me and gone off to bed.
Arrive at the YP and decide I want a half-day. Do all my routine work for 12 and leave for home. Musing on the way out about Mrs Johnson. Evidently, her 'lover' from Salvo's on Friday evening stayed the night at the flat. Good God, isn't she a tart? She never shows any signs of embarrassment after these sexual escapades with most of the men in the Leeds area [most of the sexually deprived and desperate men anyway]. Get home simultaneously with the arrival of our new deep-freeze and spin drier. After lunch Papa spends the afternoon demolishing walls in the garage to make way for the new long needed gadgets.
Finish reading 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson. It was especially moving to read about the lying-in-state and the funeral. I was there and remember seeing the Duchess of Windsor peeping from the behind the net curtains at Buckingham Palace as the Queen left to troop the Colour and pay homage to her uncle.
See TV all evening. 'I, Claudius' is especially good. Mum and Dad go out for a drink and Lynn and I watch a programme dedicated to November 22, 1963 - thirteen years ago today since Kennedy was assassinated. I recall Mum coming into my bedroom and telling John & I of this. I was eight years old. The film of the event was agonising and scenes of weeping people outside the hospital at Dallas brought a lump to my throat. Jackie Onassis can be forgiven for going off the tracks somewhat after the horrific incident. Even the passage of thirteen years does not fade the tragedy of it all.
Last after Trinity. Wakened by Mother who brings baby John into my room at 12 o'clock. He slept in her bedroom from 1am until 6.30 this morning and then from 7 until 10. A beautiful, placid and contented child. Breakfast isn't so pleasant though: Lynne is like ice and says few words whilst attacking her sausage, bacon and fried egg. I don't give a damn. It's been a weekend of squabbling and bickering and I can't say that I was particularly thrilled last night. I danced more with Maria than with Lynne, who was dull and so like ________.No doubt it's just an off weekend. She goes at 1pm and at 2 Mum and I take JPH back to John & Maria's where they are just beginning lunch with Lynn & David. They are thrilled to see the little lad after so long a separation. It was the first time J & M had been to a disco since my birthday at Oakwood Hall on April 3!
Home to Pine Tops where Mum, Dad and I watch an old film on the BBC. I keep drifting off to sleep - that is until Mama mentions fish and chips. Within minutes I'm queuing in the November cold at Harry Ramsden's. Later see a David Hemmings/Gayle Hunnicutt film which is quite good and I retire to bed at 11.20 after the thrills and excitement of 'University Challenge' on ITV.
All the makings of a good night but not as pleasant as the one I expected. After a day in Schofield's with Lynne we came back to Pine Tops for tea and then prepared for the evening's extravaganza. Down to the Hare at 8.30 with Sue, Peter N, John & Maria, Lynn, Dave, Richard & Mandy [Baker] &c. Chris Baker and his lady friend [Julie Harris] come in at 9 o'clock and we form a tight little community around the juke box. Lynne is sitting in the corner far from being a bundle of joy. An old lady before her time, I fear.
Oakwood Hall is thoroughly disastrous. Packed. Like a tin of sardines combined with the Black Hole of Calcutta and the Bethnal Green Underground accident of 1943. Really horrific. Tony is in with Stuart and Martyn but they disappear at some unearthly hour. Lynne doesn't like to see me dancing with my sister-in-law which is daft of her. I'm hardly likely to commit incest in the middle of a Bees Gees number before an uninvited audience of 500,000 people. But try telling that to Lynne Mather.
Better give Miss Phillips a mention on this, her birthday. Hello Carole.
Jive Talkin' The Bees Gees
A big piss-up tonight. Go with Lynne to the Leisure Centre [Horsforth] at 8.30 and stand with Sarah whilst Peter [Baker] plays squash down below. Quite a mob congregates herein. Mrs Johnson, Marilyn & Beverley Wheeler, Alan, an anti-monarchist with an effeminate mouth called David, who gets into the affections of Mrs J.
We all go off to Salvo's in Headingley for a pizzas, &c. Everyone is pissed and we make one hell of a racket in the restaurant which isn't on at all really, is it? Sarah becomes quite moronic and insensible. I scream like a mad thing at the effeminately mouthed David about the role of the Sovereign in current affairs. He says she's powerless, and I say 'but Ah yes, by her presence she prevents others from obtaining great power.' In between mouthfuls of pizza I find time to throw chunks of Walter Bagehot at him [i.e. that the monarchy is a 'mellowing influence on a dark and restless age'].
At one o'clock Lynne and I go back to Carol and Marilyn's flat. After an incident with the car door we arrive to find Marilyn with eight men in her sitting room holding court like Marie Antoinette. Mrs J is tucked up in bed with the anti-monarchist, effeminately-mouthed David. We leave after a glass of home-made cider and I receive abuse from Lynne about dragging her off to such a den of iniquity. Tut Tut Michael.
I feel a great sense of boredom hanging over me. No, not boredom, but something similar. Although I haven't seen Lynne since Monday [and then it was only for ten minutes] I have not missed her one bit. In fact, sometimes she annoys me intensely. Whys is this? Am I being unreasonable? When will I know I've met the right lady? Can I feel love, or am I to be denied it forever? _____________. Is Lynne going to have to go? Am I a swine? Oh God! I'm such a mixed up sod. It's as though millions of my brain cells have refused point blank to develop along with the others, so that whilst in many ways I am fully mature when it comes to Lynne Mather I might as well be a Louis XVI commode. The only thing I can do is carry on as usual and see what develops.
Mum and Dad go see John and Maria at 8pm and I'm at home alone until 9pm. Play records at full volume thinking of who to ring with the hope of nipping out for a drink or two. No developments in this field. Mum comes home with a bottle of wine and crate of Guinness. Dad is on duty at 10 and so Mum and I sit and chat until nearly midnight. Bed at 12 with 'Edward VIII'.
News: I have bought a denim jacket with a hood. Mum's reaction was: "Are men supposed to wear things like that?" It doesn't deter me though. Other news: Miss Heckmondwike is the new Miss World.
No real desire to get out of bed today. Reading the Daily Mail over breakfast I see that the renovations of Sandringham House are complete. Also see that Her Majesty is in need of more staff. Should I apply to join the Royal Household? More exciting than the Yorkshire Post library I am sure. I've a good mind to drop Sir Martin Charteris a line.
|Lord Irwin and Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles|
Work wasn't up to much at all really. Bogged down and don't get chance to ring Lynne. She didn't ring me either. Why should I worry?
News: The chairman of the Central Electricity Generating Board will not be asked to stay on when his term off office ends in June; Lord Irwin married Camilla Parker-Bowles today; Anthony Ronald Brotherwood Esq is paying a visit on his friend Stuart Walker Esq at his abode above WH Smith's in Ilkey, and later they're going out for liquid refreshment.
Not much is it really? What can you expect from a revoltingly bored 'middle-class' lay-about? Oh, I'm pissed off! Don't think I'm kidding about flitting to Sandringham either. This could be the start of the great big invisible career I've been searching for. Sir Michael Lawrence Rhodes, GCB, KCVO, &c, Private Secretary to Her Majesty the Queen C/O Buckingham Palace, London SW1.
On the subject of shooting up the social scale, have you heard the one about Uncle Tony? Yes, Mr Gadsby is standing for the council [Liberal].
Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson all night. I never fail to be angered and very moved by the Abdication Crisis. The king really should have married Wallis Simpson. Whether she should have been Queen or not is another matter.
Yet another mundane sort of day. Go to lunch at 12 o'clock and muck around in town attempting to espy a velvet jacket but fail to do so. I'd like one before the Christmas season gets under way.
Pictures have arrived in the library of this so-called Luxembourg princess. [She's] not particularly attractive and I find the whole topic of her possible marriage to the Prince of Wales a nauseating one. A Roman Catholic! Dr Cobweb [the Archbishop of Canterbury] would throw a fit. He wouldn't be happier either even if she renounced her Roman Catholic faith. Besides, I'm sure that HRH is about as much attached to Princess Marie-Astrid as I am to _____________.
Intended spending a night at home with 'Edward VIII'. Lynne rings at 5.30. She's staying here over the weekend for a change and we are not going out until Friday at her suggestion. That's fine with me if she fancies playing it cool. Ring Tony at 7. I accompany him over to John Cameron's at 8. Take John to the YP and then have a coffee with Jill, after wading through piles of dog shit. All the same, Jill is quite nice.
At 10 o'clock we get to the Hare & Hounds. Carole is down at the far end with [Peter] Fogarty and Denise. They don't acknowledge us. We don't acknowledge them. Home at 10.45 and up to bed.
Not an unpleasant day at the YP but nothing of particular interest to say. The Sunday Mirror yesterday says that the Prince of Wales is going to marry Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg, daughter of the Grand Duke. Oh yes? The Queen paid a state visit to Luxembourg last week. And I suppose the state visit of President Giscard d'Estaing in June was to fix up Prince Andrew with Mlle. Giscard? And how about the state visit to the USA in July? No doubt Julie Nixon Eisenhower and Prince Michael of Kent are secretly betrothed. The Queen Mother was in France last week. Does President De Gaulle have a bachelor brother?
Lynne rings at 5.35pm and I invite her to come up to Pine Tops after her Spanish lessons are over. Later, a historic occasion indeed. The Royal Variety Performance LIVE on the BBC for the first time. The Queen Mother was there - she must have found time to snatch herself away from the attentions of King Olav of Norway. It was a boring performance only made bearable by Mike Yarwood, fish and chips, and a couple of bottles of ale. Otherwise it was a flop. The poor Queen Mother looked older.
Bed at 11.30 with Frances Donaldson's 'Edward VIII'.
Wake up at noon feeling quite refreshed really. No ill effects at all. However, Mum and Dad cannot make a similar boast. They were at the Grunwell's residence at Castleford from 9 o'clock last night until 6.35am. Mum is in bed clutching her head.
The Prince of Wales is 28 today and of course it's the Cenotaph Day and the third wedding anniversary of Princess Anne and her 'impotent stable boy'.
|Miss Mandy Phillips|
Oh God. What a hangover. Tony's on the phone at 10am and wakes me. Says he's coming over later. I stagger about the house doing my best to make myself look normal when John, Maria and John Jun arrived at 12.30. The infant is growing more beautiful every day and is much stronger. He's smiling more as well. Tony comes at 1 o'clock and he takes me down to Bradford in the car. I'm feeling really ill. We go through a car wash and in order to cheer me up he tapes the proceedings. Yes, we are raving lunatics. Go into WH [Smiths] and see Denise for the first time in months. She promises to come up tomorrow. She and Tony didn't seem at all antagonistic towards each other. Back home at 3. I nursed the baby for an hour or so until I began to feel better. Ring Lynne and speak to Peter M too. Martyn rings me and we arrange tonight's session.
To Ilkley with Tony at 8.30. Collect Martyn and then Stuart. Up to the Craven Heifer [Addingham] and then on to Bingley where we pick up a couple of girls. Miss Mandy Phillips, of Thornbury, Pudsey, and another girl, Margaret, whom we decide to call Heidi because of her Tyrolean dress. On to Oakwood Hall where more pilage, plunder and rape took place. Didn't get in the state I was in last night however. Back home to Pine Tops at 2.30 and entertained the lads for more than an hour. Laughed like Hell at the 'Excuse me, Miss' track on the Monty Python [Live at Drury Lane] LP. It really does work wonders. Bed after cheese on toast. Goodnight.
Leave [the YP] at 12 o'clock. It's been a bloody long week. Get my hair cut and emerge after 30 minutes with the shortest style I've had so far. You can see my ears.
Take the coffee perculator back to Schofield's with its guarantee in the hope that they'll replace it. Dad cracked it when decorating the kitchen. I bought Frankie Howerd's autobiography for Mum. She adores him and last night was moaning about the lack of attention she's been getting lately. Like a spoilt child she is. I also bought a bright red crew neck sweater for myself in Mark's and Spencer. Home at 2 o'clock. Dad is on the garage roof working wonders with a bucket of cement. I gave Mum her new book at tea time and it was warmly received.
Out to the Hare with Lynne at 8 o'clock. Joined by Chris, Peter M, Laura [Butchart] and Dave [Paterson]. I drifted over to have a word with Simon and Val. [You know Simon, he's with Denise at Smiths]. Have quite a good laugh too. Martyn arrived later on. Peter, Martyn, Chris and I went to to the Stoney Lea until 2am. Got completely intoxicated and remember nothing of the journey home. A complete blank.