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Tuesday July 13, 1976


John and Maria come at 8.30. They like my virtually non-existant sun tan and join Mum, Dad and I in a glass of Bacardi & coke. (No doubt you've gathered I bought some cheap Bacardi in Ibiza). They're having difficulty getting possession of the new house and it seems that Maria has written some vicious letters to people in high places in order to get things moving. Bits of scandal I hear include items as ludicrous as Carole emigrating to New Zealand to become a missionary, and much more.

CB rings this afternoon to tell me she's got the job at Bradford Mothercare, but is doing eight weeks training at Doncaster first. Christine at Mothercare!!!

Dave L has managed to get a job teaching rural studies in Gloucester - Dad heard this today when he visited the Lawson residence in a professional capacity to solve the mystery of Gary's disappearing bicycle. I shall have to ring David shortly.

See 'Bonanza' on TV and retire to bed afterwards.

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Monday July 12, 1976


Bank Holiday in Ireland. Back to work which is like a nightmare after two weeks of luxurious living.

Home at 5.15. The house is horribly quiet without Lynn and Susan. Sit watching the TV with Mum & Dad who say that last week was the first time in 22 years that they've been alone in the house. The silence is broken by Tony who comes in at 8 o'clock with a book for Edith Blackwell. He is acting weird and I think he's pissed until I remember _________________. I have a burst of hysterics when he says he's bought a kite and is going up into the hills tomorrow to fly it. What is the world coming to? I think the lad's gone off his rocker. However, I'd never hold that against him.

Pete & Chris come at 8.30 and Lynne rings to say she's coming at 9 o'clock. Thje lads go when she arrives and we sit for a couple of hours with Mum & Dad drinking Bacardi & coke. Mum seems to have taken a shine to Lynne. They haven't really met before.

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Sunday July 11, 1976

4th after Trinity. Home to the United Kingdom of Gt Britain. The plane was delayed for an hour and a half and so we didn't touch down at Manchester until 12.15. Mum and Dad have been waiting for hours and look tired out. We take Pete to Bramhope and he has to lob pebbles at his mother's bedroom window before he can be let in. The rotten sods couldn't even be bothered to wait up for him. Diabolical. A fantastic holiday over. How the hell will I ever settle down?

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Saturday July 10, 1976


Our last night on the town in San Antonio. Accompanied by two women from Burnley - Anne and Sandra. Back to the hotel after the Playboy. We have a riotous affair in our room. Joined by seven Spanish maidens who chant rugby songs until after 4am. The couple in the next room were not overjoyed by the serenade. Miserable gits.

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Friday July 9, 1976


I'm still in Ibiza. Last night is a complete blank. People in the hotel lounge are nudging the person nearest to them and whispering things about me. Did I make a spectacle of myself? Blimey, I'm a loony.

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Thursday July 8, 1976




A drunken day - again. Go on the 'booze cruise' again and managed to sup more booze than on Friday's excursion. Pam and I had a grope on the homeward journey - much to the envy of a couple of hundred other males on the 'voyage'. She says I'm no older than 18 - quite flattering really.

Cut my foot on a broken glass in El Capone's tonight. Why was I wandering around barefoot? Anyway, a bilingual Dutch dame helped me put my socks on in a dark grotto of the bar.

Home to the hotel at 2.30. Purchase a copy of the Daily Telegraph and spew up everywhere.

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Wednesday July 7, 1976


Peter didn't propose to Carmina yesterday, but from tonight's conversation he may well be doing it at this very moment.

Out to the bars with Dave G, Glenn and Lucia, Carmina & Monsi - they go home tomorrow morning & we'll never see them again. Sad, because we have become such friends.

Pete & Carmina go off for a quiet walk and I go up in the lift with Lucia. I got out on the second floor and stood watching as she disappeared up to the third. We have exchanged addresses, but nothing could ever be the same again.

Glenn and I open a couple of bottles of wine in my room (40 pesetas each) and we proceeded to get pissed up. Giggling and laughing like a pair of fourteen year-old school girls - but if you can't giggle on holiday, when the Hell can you?

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