I started to keep a journal in January, 1973, when I was 17 years old ~ and compiled it as if it was written for a future grandchild.
Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
Sunday February 20, 1977
Quinquagesima. By 4am only Judith, Kathryn and I are conscious. But when we decided to call it a day I realised with horror that my jacket and keys are locked in Tony's car. We drove to Kirkstall for sausages and chips and pots of hot coffee at an unpleasant transport cafe which, by coincidence, is closing down today. Listen to Elvis Presley on the juke box and debate whether we're sane, or not.
On leaving the 'restaurant' we were accosted by two or three police officers in cars, who question us about a shooting which had just occurred in Leeds City Station. Kathryn turned to me and said: "What have you done with the gun, Michael?" This did not amuse the officers.
Back to Judith's serenaded by the clanging of church bells and the singing of obnoxious bird-life. To make matters worse Kathryn has an elephant in her mini which plays the drums and makes one hell of a rumpus when wound up. A clockwork elephant. Judith dumps us in her dining room and then slips into a coma on the carpet. I sit moaning and groaning trying to keep Kathryn awake and for her to amuse me. Silly bugger aren't I? By 8am Kathryn decided that Tony would be on the move and so she drove me down to WH Smith's. Tony was indeed up. But what a nauseating sight! Frankenstein could not have looked worse, in fact Mrs Shelley's creation is angelic in comparison. I sit at Tony's breakfast table in dark spectacles watching him pace up and down with a strange look in his eyes. ______.
Home for 9am and immediately retire to bed until 12 o'clock. Tony takes me to the YP at 5 o'clock in the snow. Yes, snow. By 10pm I'm just about unconscious with exhaustion.