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Friday September 16, 1977

Mixed with the posh people this evening at Harewood House. Sarah and I went straight to Horsforth from the YP and at 6.30 we went with Mrs Cinzano to Harewood where we met Delia. She is in a temper and informs us that his miserable lordship will not be attending the function due to the death of Maria Callas, a connection which I fail to see. Blimey, I went in to the office on August 17 even though Elvis Presley had passed on.

Countess of Harewood.
For a start we got on the wrong side of the Countess of Harewood. Whilst she was showing Brigadier Hargreaves the music room, Delia and a band of renegades including Sarah and I, raided the dining room and made a start on the wondrous chicken buffet. Lady H entered the room ten minutes after us expecting to be served first and almost fell over us in the doorway. Delia and Brian Halliday had even flopped down on the Chippendale sofa and were joking about Carol J ____________. Lady Harewood gave us dirty looks for the remainder of the evening but we didn't care. We laughed and I dared Delia to approach Her Ladyship and call her 'Marion', who was of course George's first spouse. Lady H is a snobby, ridiculously coiffured Aussie who was previously married to a Schmidt, and posed for Australian TV commercials in the 1940s, I believe. She made a very bad impression altogether and only spoke to the Hargreaves contingent and his feeble Lane Fox of a wife, who looked positively sick.

The food was good and we put away gallons of white wine. Delia and I wandered out in search of the conveniences and we ended up having hysterics over the Epstein statue of Adam - truly grotesque. My God, the things Delia was doing with his penis, and a stone one too, were mind boggling.

We left for a pub at Wetherby at 9.30 as the Harewood butler stood at the entrance of the house yelling for 'Mrs Collis'. The summons from the countess had come too bloody late. "If she'd wanted to speak to me she could have do so hours ago", screeched Delia.


Thursday September 15, 1977

Good old Lynn and David, eh? I am so relieved that they have stuck it out to the bitter end like this. I cannot wish for a better brother-in-law than David, and I told him so at lunchtime when we went to the Boar's Head, a new pub near the Bond Street development. He was feeling rough after last night and only managed one, solitary pint, but I managed to put away a couple. He could not understand why he felt so nervous approaching Mum and Dad because he knows them so well. I tell him how good and considerate it was of them to give the family prior notice of the engagement. I don't think Mum and Dad would have wanted them just to walk in with a ring.

Dave & Lynn.
I left Dave at about 1.15 and staggered back to the YP. Work was ghastly. I'm not discussing it, anyway. How can I talk about work when my beautiful sister is about to embark on the biggest step down life's pathway? That innocent little child on whom I've showered my brotherly affection for almost 20 years is going to be married, with all the responsibilities appertaining thereto, BEFORE ME! Am I neglecting my duty as an older brother? Should I set a shining example to my younger kin by taking a bride in hand? Is it right and proper for a 22 year-old male, and a healthy one I hope, to be set permanently in the wicked ways of bachelorhood? How long will it be before the whispering begins? You know the sort of thing I'm getting at: "Hey Doris, did you see Michael Rhodes in his pink socks?" And: "Isn't it queer, Doris, how he's always behind the bicycle sheds with his boy scouts?" &c. No doubt about it. If I'm still unattached by my 25th birthday I'll be branded homosexual for sure. Who knows though? The visit of Jacqui a week on Friday may trigger another romance that will outshine the one with the late Miss Mather, or even Carole. We'll see anyway.


Wednesday September 14, 1977

Lynn and Dave: engaged
One of the most historic days to affect the House of Rhodes. Dad was working 2-10 for the first time since April and when Lynn and Dave came in at 8.30 they seemed very concerned that Papa was absent. When Dad eventually got back at 10 - it happened. Yes, you'll never guess what "it" was. Susan called me from the lounge and said: "David wants a word with you in the kitchen". I had no idea what all this cloak and dagger stuff was about but on entering the kitchen it hit me right in the face. A pale and drawn looking Dave, holding a bottle of Scots Mac, asked: "Can you stay in here for a while because I want a word with your Mum and Dad?" "Oh God" I exclaimed, "you cannot be serious?". I couldn't stop laughing. He was actually asking for Lynn's hand in marriage. It had happened at last. Within minutes Sue and I are back with the happy couple. They are to become engaged on September 28 - the third anniversary of the start of their relationship. We celebrated with a couple of bottles of wine, gallons of lager and of course the Scots Mac. They are planning to marry next September. It is all top secret, of course, until September 28. Mum and Dad took it marvellously. Dad thought an engagement might take place when they came back from Italy.

Lynn is like a changed person. For days now she's been uptight and sharp tempered. We all noticed it. Now we know why. The nerves must have got to her. Good old Dave joining the family is a great thing. Mum and Dad of course think he's marvellous. Blimey, another wedding in the clan! I always thought that Lynn and Dave would do the obvious but ___________________.


Tuesday September 13, 1977

Jacqui phoned today and said she and Joy are coming up on September 23 for the weekend. They are staying at a flat in Leeds and she suggests we go out for a couple of nights on the town. I say it's a great idea and we had a pleasant chat about it. However, John (Grady) phoned from Rossendale this evening and said next weekend wouldn't be suitable for our visit to Lancashire, and could we make it the weekend after instead? All would have been fine but what about Jacqui coming from deepest Muswell Hill? John is undeterred and says she's only after my Hylda Baker body. We laughed. I think of Dave G. He'll never be able to get Sept 17 off. Oh God, I'm fed up with all this muddled arranging. John also said Noel would be free to join us on Sept 24 because he's going away with his fiance next weekend. We'll sort something out and I'll contact Jacqui tomorrow.

Tonight I sat and worked out the number of people descended from my grandparents John Wilson and Levinyer Wood. You may think it a silly thing to do but I'm interested. They have 35 descendants, 17 of them male; 18 female. They are all living too. They range from 58 years to one week old. I was the eighth grandchild and fifteenth descendant, and sixth grandson. Only 10 of the descendants bear the name Wilson today. The other 25 are Harwoods, Myers, Gadsbys, Williams, &c. They don't have as many descendants as King Edward III, but they haven't had the amount of time he's had. A proper little statistician aren't I?

Retired to bed at midnight.



Monday September 12, 1977

A ghastly day. Staggered to work feeling like Anne Boleyn must have felt after her tragic loss. Lady Jane Grey too, and Lord Haw Haw. Yes, my head was far from well. Abominable is a far too mild an adjective to use. By 12 noon I was moaning, yawning and close to tears. I phoned Tony who was also very close to death. I informed him that I could stand no more and on putting down the receiver I lost consciousness and fell crashing to the floor from my desk. Some amiable editor must have carried me from the building and placed me on an omnibus because I regained consciousness somewhere in the Guiseley area at about 1pm.

Luncheon was also a great strain and afterwards I fell from the table and into bed. You'll be pleased to know that by tea time I was more or less back to normal. Oh what a time. As I grow older my hangovers get steadily worse. By the time I'm 25 I shall be paying regular visits to one of those rehabilitation centres. You may laugh, but it's true.

Autumn: nationalised?
Some of that famous glint came back to my sad old eyes at 7.30 when 'Coronation Street' came on the television. It's programmes like this that make life so well worth living, folks.

Nothing much more to say, playmates. Have you enjoyed reading this page? Good. September is always such a nice month, don't you think? Or have the authorities in your era scrapped the old months system? Well, it wouldn't surprise me if they have nationalised autumn.


Sunday September 11, 1977

14th after Trinity. Tony, Martyn, Georgina and Jenny came here at about 5 o'clock straight from Nostell Priory where they'd spent the afternoon. Martyn was stoned out of his mind and looked ghastly. They said how he'd just about been thrown out of the priory after collapsing over a china cabinet packed with object d'art.

Hanging Heaton.
We went first to Ilkley and then to Hanging Heaton and Christine Byram's party. We met Christine (Byram) at the Fox and Hounds first and we all got slightly boozed up. Jenny and Georgina are good girls. The elder one is 28, I think, but doesn't look it at all.

The party was going well but things were marred when Eileen and Michael burst in like members of the National Front. Eileen screamed at a quaking Christine, telling her to 'piss off' and Michael bashed a spotty sixth former who happened to say something out of place. A bad show it was. I made some attempt at appeasement, but like the late Neville Chamberlain, I had no success whatsoever.

Christine had a good weep but by 1am things were more or less back to normal. I became most intoxicated and remember grovelling on the floor with either Georgina or Jenny. My God she knows how to kiss. At one point I thought I might be sucked in altogether. Please remind me to ask Tony which just which girl it was being so nice to me. Another young lady gave me a gin cocktail which probably had a dash of every other spirit in it and that was the last thing I can recall. It is said I made a staggering entry into Pine Tops at something in the region of 4am. Mama was awakened by my pissed staggerings but no blows were exchanged. Oh my head.



Saturday September 10, 1977

A quiet time at home playing records like Jimmy Savile throughout the day and watching TV by night.

I attempted to phone Christine Byram to inform her that Tony, Martyn and I are going to her party tomorrow, but got no answer.

The lads came round after lunch and we lounged around watching a Jules Verne-type epic on BBC2. I told them quite adamantly that I wasn't going out tonight, and they went away in a state of shock. They went to Il Trovatore last night and met Chris and Pete M.

John came up to assist Dad with some joinery work, but I didn't move from the chair. The clock went to eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve and then one without me moving a single muscle. Finally went to bed at 1.20am.



Friday September 9, 1977

Busy at the YP. Just Kathleen and I. However, after eight hours toiling we were still living and I was out and finished for the weekend.

Tony took John and Maria to Blackpool for the day, and he rang at 6 to say he'd be over in a couple of hours with Martyn. To the Harrogate Arms where we met Naomi, Carolle Jones, Graham Peel, the Royal We, Carole, Fogarty, Dave Lazenby, Ron (Denise's Ron), and others. I just didn't feel right. Was sick to death of everyone. __________. Miss Phillips was a pain in the neck. Why does she have to be so bloody childish? Oh, what does it matter anyway? In 200 years time who'll give a damn? Three pints later we left for home.I informed them of my visit to Harewood next Friday. They want tickets too, but when I say they're £8 they fall into a silence. I say I'm staying in tomorrow, but neither believed me I think.

Mum and Dad were watching an ancient film 'Family Way' and I plonked myself down with them.



Thursday September 8, 1977

Miserable bloody weather. I had a rare half day and managed to escape at 12. At lunchtime I went with Sue, Peter and Uncle H to the Commercial where we had roast beef and dripping sandwiches and a few pints. Mum and Dad came in at 2. Annie (Lindley) sat on my knee and we laughed our heads off.
Annie Lindley.

Uncle H, being alcoholic, is pissed as a frog after three pints, and to make matters worse he bought a bottle of whisky from the bar to take back for a further session.

Later we were joined by Edith and Ernest and knocked back ginger beer, wine, whisky, lager and beer. By 7 o'clock we were all canned and some of the party were complaining of hunger. Within minutes we were at the Hare (where Judith was playing at barmaids) on our way to the Flying Pizzatoo at Burley-in-Wharfedale. The restaurant was jam packed and we seemed to be waiting hours for our food.

Harry's changed a good deal since April. He's older and not half the fun he once was.

We all went back to Edith and Ernest's at about 11 for glasses of his cloudy pink champagne, but the end of the night was ruined by Uncle Harry's behaviour. At 12.30 he stormed out, packed his pathetic belongings and was away down the lane with his dog, Tan, telling me to 'piss off' and that he will never come back to Yorkshire. Isn't it a terrible thing? Mum came home with a raging headache.

Dom(inic) Melville arrived at some late hour to say he had seen Harry walking towards Rawdon and wanted to know if there was anything he could do.


Wednesday September 7, 1977

A busy day. Carol J is off with some mysterious disease ___________, and Sarah is a complete misery and goes home at 4 feeling off it. When she gets low she really does just that. ______.

TUC conference.
The newspapers today are quite void of news other than the insane ramblings of the TUC at their Blackpool conference. When I'm the absolute power in this land that little organisation is one which will be liquidated straight away, no messing, despite the fact that I am a member of the National Graphical Association, or something equally hideous.

Tony phoned and asked if I fancied going with him and Naomi to visit Steve Hailes in hospital. I declined the invitation because no doubt the hospital visit will have culminated in some sort of liquid excercise which I can ill afford. He quite understood.

Martyn came at 9 to have Sue cut his hair, leaving shortly afterwards with a far more groomed appearance. Good old Martyn. Lynn is getting on my nerves. ________________________. David came up tonight, Dave B, that is. ___________.



Tuesday September 6, 1977

Lady Jane Wellesley
Chatting with Uncle Harry tonight we decided to form a new political party. The National Rhodes Party, or the NRP. I'm going to be chancellor, Mum is going to put on her big hat and make history by being the first woman Home Secretary, and Uncle H is earmarked for Prime Minister. The small moustache and grey hair are his credentials. We haven't yet decided just what job Dad will fill, but no doubt we'll come up with something. A good idea, don't you think? We would do a damn sight better than Mr Callaghan and Company, of this I'm sure.

The YP was up to its usual standard. Kathleen was a pain in the neck and Sarah was in a ghastly mood all day. So we had quite a cheerful time of it.

Harry: Prime Minister.

One of the papers (the Sun, I think) says Lady Jane Wellesley is back on the scene with the Prince of Wales. The woman is in her 27th year and I hardly think she's up to any rigorous sessions of child-bearing which will of course be necessary if she marries the heir. Besides, we don't want a Queen with ________.Will she do for Prince Andrew, perhaps?

Watched TV tonight. Mum, Dad and Harry went to the Commercial for a quick one, and it was on their arrival home at 10.30 that the plans for Britain's new political leadership emerged.


Monday September, 5, 1977

 A most interesting day all in all. Lynn was nasty this morning about me going to the barbecue on Saturday. It made me angry because never have I felt so right about an action in my whole life. ___________.

At tea time Susan made a massive meal for the family expecting the arrival of Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry - but they didn't arrive, and the food intended for them was devoured by me at various periods throughout the evening.

I phoned John G in Rawtenstall and told him we'd be over on September 17. Watched a TV programme on Lord Lichfield which was good. Mum, Dad and Harry and the dog, Tan, arrived at about 10 and we had a minor home brew session which took us through until 12.45. We discussed the Lane Fox family and the fact that old Wetherby people Brigadier Hargreaves, the pompous Lord Lieutenant, and Sir Kenneth Parkinson, our beloved chairman, are married to sisters.


Sunday September 4, 1977

13th after Trinity. Yes, Naomi and I put up a Christmas tree and decorated it with newspaper. Oh what a state it was in this morning. I was actually beginning to believe that the festive season was upon us.
with Martyn at Bolton Abbey.

Tony and Martyn came at about 3. I wasn't all that talkative. Wendy, Georgina and G's sister (I've forgotten her bloody name) joined us in Ilkley and we motored to Bolton Abbey for the remaining portion of the afternoon. We walked by the river taking the occasional silly photograph and then went for a riotous cup of tea and a bun at the Bolton Abbey Cafe. My ginger cake was a collector's piece - mid 18th century, I think..

We returned to the flat for cheese on toast and then shot off to the Craven Heifer for a hectic, hot, and horribly sticky night out. It was like the 1975 London Tube Disaster all over again - only worse. We were crammed in a corner away from the music and the dirty jokes. By now I was decidedly dull-witted and uncommunicative. Home at midnight. Everyone nicely tucked up in bed except Mummy and Daddy who are visiting Uncle Harry in Cumbria (since Saturday noon) and I do the same. Retire that is.


Saturday September 3, 1977

Eileen and Michael's wedding day. David B and I went to see Sarah & Delia at 12 and we took photos of the dogs on the Collis's spacious lawn. From here we went to the Queen's Arms just for one solitary drink. I haven't been in the Queen's for a couple of years, in fact since the pub crawl with Sarah and Carol J when I proposed marriage, amongst other things, to Miss Collis.

Left David at about 1pm and went to the YP to collect Kathleen. Together we went to Mirfield and the Dusty Miller pub for a few more. We arrived at the church at 2 o'clock just as Eileen arrived on the arm of her father. By 2.30 they were married. At the reception I was on a table with Delia, Sarah, Kathleen and Steve (the lad from the stag party). Eileen looked very happy.

Delia brought me home at 5.30 and tonight Dave B and I went to the Malt Shovel at Baildon. Joined by Tony and Martyn and at 11.30 we collected Naomi and went to a barbecue at Carlton. John and Maria were there. On to Il Trovatore where Naomi and I danced with a string of tinsel. When she brought me home at 2.30 we put up the Christmas decorations.



Friday September 2, 1977

Woke up this morning to find myself sharing Michael's double bed. He turned to me, touchingly I thought, and informed me that I am the last person he will have slept with before his marriage. I thanked him for the honour and wished him all the luck with Eileen, and hope he will be as happy with her as he has been with me. Taking a second look at me he sighed said that perhaps he was being rather hasty.

Got a bus with Eileen and her sister, Christine and arrived at the YP at 9.30. Work was ghastly. I took two large pills to try and persuade my head not to unscrew itself, but remained quite lifeless until lunchtime.
Harrogate Arms.

Met Naomi, Carolle Jones and Graham Peel in the Wellesley. A couple of drinks brought me round fabulously and the afternoon was a painless one.

Dave B took me to the Harrogate Arms tonight. Sue, Pete N, Martyn, Tony, Mrs Cole, Mrs Townsend, &c. Then Naomi came in with Graham P, followed by Pete M, Steve Hudson, Denise, Carole P, and Fogarty. Chatted with Carole, quite amicably, as to why Dave B was without Lynn. (She's gone to a RAF dispay at Cranwell with David Greenwood). Beryl Greenwood phoned tonight.

A good night at Harrogate nicely finished off with a prawn curry in Guiseley. Dave B was on top form.


Thursday September 1, 1977

Michael Robertshaw's stag part. Martyn is 19 today. They picked me up on the lane at 7.40am and he thanked me for the silly birthday card.

Martyn: 19th birthday.
Tonight: Eileen took me to Michael's house at Mirfield where I stayed to tea. His grandmother, widow of a miner, told me she's 86 and a native of Hull.

Out at 7.30pm with about eight of his friends and the orgy of drunkenness spread to Huddersfield and the Amsterdam Bar, which was riotous. Full of transvestites and other bawdy, dangerous types. From here we staggered to a discotheque where everything is a blurred mass. Remember smoking and throwing up in a sub-way. we seemed to have lost more than half the lads in the disco and only Mick, Stephen, Dave (Mick's brother-in-law) and I arrived home together.


Wednesday August 31, 1977

Sir Kenneth's wedding ....
The chairman of the Yorkshire Post's only claim to fame is that, in a moment of cunning calculation, on the morning of October 2, 1937, he did take as his bride, the Honourable Miss Dorothy Lane Fox, third daughter of the 1st (and last) Baron Bingley. Nice one, Kenneth.


Tuesday August 30, 1977

Our managing director is a lunatic. Just watching him sitting behind his desk makes one wonder how he ever rose to such a position. I am sure that the fact that Mr Linacre is the holder of the Distinguished Flying Cross has a lot to do with it. The DFC is essential for newspaper management.



Monday August 29, 1977

Went to Leeds at 8 with Dave G, who departs down Wellington Street for his bus. A great lad.

Trojans: not really office workers.
I'm at the YP all day with just Carol J to amuse me. (By the way, I've re-discovered my fountain pen). We worked like Trojans, that is if Trojans ever really worked like we do at the Yorkshire Post, which I doubt very much. They wouldn't know the first thing about filing news cuttings or dealing with the news desk.

Home at about 5 feeling warm and weary. CB, yes, good old CB phoned and demanded my company for the evening. I'm washed, groomed and ready for 8 o'clock and she came and collected me in her new car. We went to the Hare for the first one, then because it was so dead, we moved on to the Shoulder of Mutton, the Commercial and then the Regent and finally the Yorkshire Rose. We had the usual laugh and customary breakages and other mishaps but all great fun. She is in possession of a new boyfriend and by all accounts he's not the usual rogue-like vagabond with whom she so often becomes enamoured. She says they are going to take me out to the Amsterdam Bar at Huddersfield. A new innovation. I'm usually kept well away from Christine's beaus.

Home by 10.30 even though the pubs are open until 11.30. It was so bloody quiet everywhere so much so that we forgot it was a bank holiday.


Sunday August 28, 1977

12th after Trinity.  An article of the Sunday Trash says our dear Princess Margaret is suffering from porphyria, the 'Royal Malady', and it says this accounts for her irrational behaviour and the break down of her marriage. Utter and complete rubbish I'm glad to say.

Dave G, Dave B, Lynn, Sue, Peter N, and I went to the Commercial from 12 until 2. Joined later by Mum and Dad who bump into cousin Brian (Myers) and Valerie in a dark corner and chat with them for over an hour. Valerie is very attractive, but childless. They have no news of Jennifer (Myers) and her imminent delivery. No doubt Auntie Mabel will be informed of the news when it occurs.

Redgrave & Jackson.
A hot, sunny afternoon. We sat outside discussing friendship, and particularly, Glenn. Back at Pine Tops, very hot weather, we sprawl on the lawns and muck about in deckchairs. Hilarious afternoon.

After 'Sunday dinner' we collapsed in the lounge. Joined by Martyn. We just watched TV. 'Mary Queen of Scots' starring Vanessa Redgrave and Glenda Jackson.

Everyone laughs at Dave G. He's so funny. The ladies especially rock with laughter. Lynn made a pile of sandwiches and then we watched another film, a romance set in the 16th century. Quite good, but too sloppy.


Saturday August 27, 1977

Stuart (Newton) and Christine (White) were married at St John's (church), Yeadon, at 2pm. We only just made it to the ceremony after a somewhat farcical chase across Aireborough, and our arrival at the church coincided with that of the bridesmaids and other important personages.

Stuart & Christine
Sue, Pete N and I sat with Messers Ratcliffe and Mather, and Lynn and Dave B sat warbling behind. Christine looked very nice, Stuart looked petrified. A horrible sight to see a man so frightened. We needed a 'Scarlet Pimpernel' figure to perhaps come and rescue him.

The reception at the Colours Restaurant at Horsforth went off brilliantly. Home at about 7pm nicely stewed. David G arrived at Pine Tops just as we got in. His Ibiza pictures are incredible. Martyn joined us at 9 and we went back to Horsforth to continue the festivities, the happy couple having left for Scarborough some hours previously. More drink in larger quantities. Mrs White is a darling and I gave her a large kiss on leaving. Chatted with Linda and Andy. Very congenial.

Took Martyn to Ilkley and then entertained Dave G to 'home brew' until some ridiculous hour of the morning. Why do we do such things? Agreed, it's my Plantagenet nature peeping through from the depths of the Middle Ages. Edward III liked the occasional beer, you know.


Friday August 26, 1977

Martyn and I paid a visit to Tony at Bradford Royal Infirmary this evening. The place stank of disease and rotting flesh and made me feel positively flat, but otherwise it was a joyful 45 minutes. We were joined at the hospital by Barry, Wendy, Anne, Georgina and other Smith vassals. We polished off Tony's grapes, Kit Kats and Bourbon biscuits.

Mum: Plantagenet blood.
At 8.30 Martyn, the ladies and I went on to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton. It was the usual tight squeeze but we had a laughable time. However, at 10.55 when Martyn and I went out for a bus our laughter turned to grimaces of devastation and horror. It was like the Nazi invasion of Czechoslovakia and the defeat of Leeds United by Sunderland at Wembley in 1973 all rolled into one. Precisely, no bus was to be had whatsoever. We legged it to Shipley and then paid £1 to a sombre taxi driver to bring us to Guiseley. Had an exchange of 'words' with Mum in her boudoir. She objects to Martyn using our home like a hotel. Mummy takes on an extremely fiery  and war-like countenance at times which I can only put down to the hot, Plantagenet blood in her veins. Blimey, when your great-uncle started the Wars of the Roses, a bit of aggression is bound to rub off isn't it?

Thursday August 25, 1977

Garter's letter ...
A letter in The Times from the Garter Principal King of Arms (Sir Anthony Wagner) on Dr Reid's recent letter, and a preposterous letter too, about everyone sharing descent from King Edward III. (I've stuck it here between these pages just in case you're interested at all.)

(Forgive me for not using real ink but I've mislaid my fountain pen again).

King Edward III indeed. Oh yes, I can remember my grandfather telling me tales of going round to see his grandad when he was a lad and sitting on his regal knee at Windsor or Sheen, or wherever his Majesty resided. Oh yes, you didn't realise, did you, that 'Ted', as he was affectionately known in the family, lived in Armley for many years?

           "Mr Edward Plantagenet III
            6, Corporation Street

On Sundays we always had to put on our best boots and flat caps and address him by his 'Sunday best' title of 'Edwardus, Dei Gratia Rex Anglae et Franciae et Dominus Hiberniae'. Oh he was such a down to earth little man,  who only pleasure in life was his three ounces of ready rubbed St Bruno tobacco and Auntie Elsie's jam roll. (Auntie Elsie is known to historians as 'The Fair Maid of Kent'. God only knows why.)

Wednesday August 24, 1977

A wet, November-type of day. The YP was uneventful and sombre. However, tonight is the thing to discuss. Martyn and I went to the Bod by good old bus, and a wet one at that and met Wendy (age aprrox. 27 years) and Anne (age unknown, but slightly younger than Wendy). After just one paltry drink we went by taxi to Annabella's, which I immediately recognised from the the only other occasion I had been there some 2 years ago (it was Christmas 1975, with Carole, on a coach party organised by David from Hawksworth Lane.)

We all ate, drank and danced marvellously. I gave a demonstration of my party piece, and a skilled one, of letting down inflated, knotted balloons. No one, it appears, has seen this done before. I managed to save at least 2 dozen of these gaily coloured objects which had throughout the evening given the effect of the January Sales in a nudist camp.

I must stress that neither Martyn or I  consumed excessive amounts of alcohol. You can believe what you wish on this subject. Anne and I made hogs of ourselves attacking the buffet for 'seconds'. The 2 anonymous Smiths shop assistants joined us and the Egyptian sand-dancing was started up again. We were in hysterics. Martyn and I home in a taxi at 1.30 which only cost us £1 each. Not bad.


Tuesday August 23, 1977

Tony came at 7.30pm and after a coffee we went on to Ilkley so that I could gather together my personal effects before he is taken away to the sanatorium. It was good to lay hands ion my Donna Summer LP again and the three quarter of a million singles I'd left there after the last party.

Tony lends me a volume of the works of Evelyn Waugh, which he sells through Octopus Books. When I said that Evelyn Waugh was a very humorous author he replied: "Was she?" Poor, demented lad.

Martyn joined us after 8 and we went to the Rose & Crown and then the Crescent. Only a few drinks. The main topic of conversation was Tony's forthcoming operation. God knows what he's having done. Veins and legs spring to mind.

Back to the flat for coffee and a few farewell photographs. We'll visit him on Friday before nipping over to the Bod for our traditional skin-full. Perhaps Mary will be in?


Monday August 22, 1977

Phoned Anne at Smith's to enquire about a couple of free tickets for Tony and myself for the 'do' at Annabella's on Wednesday. She managed to get me some.

Tony came over after tea with a letter from the Health Authority informing him of his interment at Bradford Royal Infirmary on the morning of August 24. This means no 'do' on Wednesday for him and no bank holiday trip for him and Martyn at the weekend. He suggested Martyn and I go to Annabella's instead. He left at about 7 o'clock.

We (the family that is) watched a Frankie Howerd film 'Up the front' which is ghastly. He is a brilliant comedian but the scripts they give him to perform with are rubbish. Bed at approx. 11pm.

PS. While reading 'The Times' today I saw a letter on ancestry which claimed that going back to 1066 each person can claim to have 700 million ancestors. I just cannot believe it. The writer (a Mr D. Reid) also claims that every Briton is descended from King Edward III. This is rubbish.



Sunday August 21, 1977

11th after Trinity. Woke at 11 feeling quite dead. Mr Brotherwood Senior, grinning broadly, deposited a cup of tea by my bed and made a quick exit from the room. Tony was outside beating his sheepskin car rugs with a large wire brush. He laughed on seeing me and joked about the pinkness of my eyes and deathly hue of my palid cheeks. We then attacked slices of hot buttered toast with Mrs B's constant chatter as a back drop.

See in the Sunday Times that the genius Groucho Marx is dead. Let us hope that, as in the case of the late, lamented Mr Presley, the BBC will now show all the Marx Brothers films because 'Duck Soup', 'A Day at the Races' and 'A Night at the Opera' are masterpieces of comedy. The Elvis films are starting on the BBC next Wednesday.

We went back to the White Horse taking Mrs Brotherwood with us. Tony and I drank tomato juice. Mrs B was on the sherry.

Sunday lunch was at 2 followed by a slight kip and then we hit the road for the north at 4pm. Home via Goodwood and picturesque Sussex and various other bits of that area of which I know nothing. We ate our packed picnic of cheese and spring onion sandwiches in the car, and I had mine as we passed Kew Gardens at about 6.30.  We were at Bradford and in the Bod at 9.30. At times Tony  had been doing over 100mph on the M1. Wendy and Anne were in the Bod and we planned to go to Annabella's with them on Wednesday and to the WH Smith party, I think. I'm surprised we weren't thrown out for all the attention we were drawing to ourselves. Three pints of Guinness, no money an one hour later I returned home to find everyone at Edith and Ernest's and in a state of intoxication. Even Lynn and David back from Italy - not as brown as they should be.


Saturday August 20, 1977

Mr Brotherwood Senior brought me a cup of coffee at 10am. Tony and I had breakfast together and then he took me on a sight seeing walk around the town. Quite a nice little place. A typical seaside resort. Tony thinks it's all very quiet for the time of year. Is it because people now go to Ibiza instead?

Went on a deodorant purchasing expedition, looked at the beach, before succumbing to Tony's adopted aunt's pub, I think the White Horse. Back to lunch at 2 with the Brotherwoods. Later we went with Mrs B to collect Stephen from his mother's house. He's a marvellous child and is thrilled to see his 'Daddy'. To the park and then back to tea of salad. Very pleasant afternoon.

Good night. We had whisky after whisky and by the time we arrived at Dante's Discotheque I for one was pissed. The women were somewhat tight and non-committal and I managed to pinch somebody else's girlfriend, again. Tony told me afterwards that I was close to getting clobbered again. Home after 2 after doing a detour around a housing estate first. I vomited in a garden on Chestnut Avenue, which is now chestnut, mauve, light green and puce. Or is it puke? Oh what a bloody night!


Friday August 19, 1977

The alarm clock sounded at something in the region of 6.30am and I felt quite awake and ready for action. Mum climbed out of bed and made sure I was on my feet and then returned to her boudoir wishing me bon voyage and 'God speed', &c. I got a bus at about 7.30 and arrived in a damp, cold Leeds at 8. I purchased a copy of the Daily Telegraph and a few packs of chewing gum, boarded the coach and pair and was soon off on the road south to the heart of this Empire of ours.

Changing the Guard ....
London was somewhat damper than Leeds but my spirits were high (amongst other things) due to the attention paid to me by a female fellow traveller clad in not much more than an engagement ring. A stunning beauty indeed. However, at Victoria Coach Station attempting to rid myself of a mouthful of chewing gum my hand slipped and I glued myself to the middle section of my Daily Telegraph. I met Jacqui in something of a messy state.

We passed a couple of hours laughing in a pub over the road. She says her Dad is the financial director of Ladbroke's. Blimey, are the Sate's landed gentry do you think? We went from the pub to Buckingham Palace and the Queen's Gallery, and then walked back to Regent Street, Leicester Square and all those frightfully interesting places on the Monopoly board. Saw a bit of Soho too.

Jacqui and I parted at about 4.30 and I passed some time reflecting on the young lady in question in the damp, pigeon-laden Trafalgar Square. She's having a party in October which sounds very promising indeed. Won't miss that.

Tony was late and we didn't meet until nearly 8pm. He'd had a rotten day and his superiors had mucked him about. We got to Bognor in heavy rain at 10 and I was introduced to Mr & Mrs Brotherwood. exceptionally nice people. Mrs B is something of a chatter-box and says that Tony inherited his 'gift of the gab' from her. I felt sick with tiredness and want nothing but sleep. Bed at about 12.


Thursday August 18, 1977

The YP took £5 from my wages today (National Savings Certificate) and it opened a new chapter in the life of Michael Rhodes. Yes, I have actually started saving some money for the first time in my long and varied life. By Christmas I'll have £100, and by next May £200. The holiday in 1978 will be no problem financially.

Jack Warner: 'Blue Lamp'
Tony came at 6.30 and collected my luggage and took it down to London, where he is at a conference for the day tomorrow.

Martyn rang. He says Martyn Knipe is home and invites me out tonight to join them. I tell him no because Anthony Cawston's film 'Royal Family' is on TV at 9.55. The lads came here at 8.30 and we watched a chronic, yet amusing film 'Blue Lamp' starring Jack Warner. To say we demolished it is an under-statement. After some persuasion they set off for Oakwood Hall without me.


Wednesday August 17, 1977

Mr Presley is all over the newspapers this morning. I think that they are making too much of his death. Granted he was a singer, and one of the first 'rock and roll' stars, but why go over the top?

I am looking forward with some relish to the London-Bognor Regis excursion at the weekend. Work is something I could do without at the moment. It's all so bloody boring, you know. How are things with you? I expect they keep you 21st century wallahs busy, eh? For years they have promised more leisure time for the masses, with a three day week and all that, but as time goes by I find my leisure time doing quite the opposite - it's shrinking. More and more work seems to be the thing. What's the chance of spending four days each week on a yacht on the Thames? It's about as possible as my chances of becoming President of the United States of America. Have you read the novel "1984"? Well, I hope you aren't all living like that in your world because if so you won't be reading this now.



Tuesday August 16, 1977

Tony came over this evening while I was in the midst of cutting the lawns and he procured me for drinking purposes. I'm flat broke, but he says he has more than enough cash to buy us both a couple of pints of Guinness.

Elvis: dead at 42.
We went over to Baildon but it was very quiet compared with the Bacchanalian reception we received last Tuesday. Darryl Wills and a friend came in.

We returned refreshed to Pine Tops at about 10.15. Mum informed us that Elvis Presley is dead. I find it hard to believe. He was only 42. He's six days younger than Mother to be precise. No doubt a flood of hysteria will sweep the world as is the general trend on the demise of a Super Star of Mr Presley's rank. (Rudolph) Valentino and Miss Marilyn Monroe for example.

We had our usual Tuesday night 'Panorama' type session with Dad and tonight it was crime and punishment and the death penalty (again). We all became somewhat heated.


Monday August 15, 1977

You will be relieved to read that the poor, exhausted Queen is on her way to Balmoral for her first break since February. Thank God the Ireland visit is over and done with and safely sealed away in the pages of history.

Carole phoned to explain why I received a postcard from Newquay on Saturday which had an Ilkley postmark embellished upon it. Miss Phillips is a write-off as far as I'm concerned and she can become Mrs Peter Fogarty tomorrow. Goodnight.


Sunday August 14, 1977

10th after Trinity. We all woke up in the same bed to the gay pealing of the bells of Ilkley Parish Church. Not a pleasant experience by any means. After eggs and bacon with the girls - who seem incredibly frail, we menfolk adjourned to the Commercial. We were joined by Graham Peel, who had been dumped at the party by other members of Denise's entourage and had spent a very noisy night in one of Tony's beds with a young lady strongly resembling Miss Dibb.

Lady Penelope and Parker ...
At 2pm Tony and Martyn returned to Ilkley and Graham brought me home just so that I could say 'hello' to Mummy and Daddy. They were busily messing around with the washing machine and seeing that Mr Peel is more than a bit sloshed and embarrassed by it we made a quick exit back to the flat. Tony and Martyn were asleep upstairs and so Graham and I finished off the left-over booze and  listened to the 'Thunderbirds' record. It was so good to hear the voices of 'Lady Penelope' and 'Parker' again.

Martyn emerged and we went for fish and chips - it was an Evel Knievel type car ride with Graham at the wheel. Frightful it was. Tony woke up for the game of indoor cricket and by 8.30 we were back to reality at the Craven Heifer. Stayed until about 10 listening to Jimmy Shand and others before returning to the Rose & Crown. Denise and entourage were in. Naomi and Carol too. Naomi was very friendly. In fact she and Carol, Graham and another anonymous guy went back to Southway for coffee and Bovril butties. Home at 1.15am with Naomi who saw a ghost on Hawksworth Lane.


Saturday August 13, 1977

Yes, I definitely feel quite good about Mary. In fact I haven't had such a good time for a very long time. Out to Baildon again tonight with Tony and Martyn but don't see any crumpet worth collecting for yet another Brotherwood party. Moved on to Hare & Hounds at Heaton where we met Wendy and Anne and a couple of anonymous ladies from Smith's. Wendy is the perfect Hylda Baker. John Grady should have been here to see her.

The Sand Dance...
Returned to Ilkley with the anonymous shop assistants. A successful party. I drink Pernod & orange. Joke all night with the girls. I taught them the Egyptian sand-dance, immortalised by Wilson, Keppel and Betty in the 1940s. At about 6 Wendy, Anne, the two shop assistants, Martyn and I got into Tony's bed. He was shouting about something and banging around in the flat whilst the ladies removed me from my jeans, or in the words of Wendy, my 'clouts'. It must have been about 6.30am.


Friday August 12, 1977

A good day. Eileen and I met Tony outside the YP at about 1pm and we had three or four drinks in the Central. Tony came back to the YP for the afternoon and had Carol J swooning all over him. In fact she did no work from when he arrived, sat, quite besotted, on her desk, with her legs rubbing up against his. It was bloody painful. Eileen was becoming quite violent about it and if I hadn't made the tea a full scale war could easily have broken out. Tony went off to a dental appointment at about 4. ________.

Tonight: Tony, Martyn and Stuart came up at 8.30 followed by Peter M and Chris. Sue, Pete N and Janet Simon joined us and we went to the Bod. Michelle, Toni and a girl called Mary came in. Mary was so fanciable you just wouldn't believe it. She was quite tanked up.

From the Bod most of us went to Il Trovatore. I was with Mary all night and it proved to be one of the most successful in ages. We got on like a house on fire. The only thing is that she has a ruddy boyfriend stashed away somewhere.  So attractive too. I told her she looked like the singer Dana, but she said Vera Lynn was closer to the mark.

Back to Tony's at 2am, and the ladies brought me home at something like 4 o'clock. A diabolical time. Don't know what sort of reception I'll get if I see Mary again but one thing's for sure folks - Michael's in love again.



Thursday August 11, 1977

A hot day. Sat in the garden with Mum and Susan until lunchtime and had the occasional lager. Just like been on holiday again. The temperature was in the 70s when I set off to Leeds at 4pm and if there's anything I feel least like doing on a hot, summers afternoon, it's work. However, it's inevitable for plebeians such as I.

Just me and Wendy at the YP until I left at 11.

Grouse: family reunion?
Hundreds of thousands of grouse will be having family reunions in the moorland heather tonight no doubt reminiscing on past escapades together and chanting the occasional prayer. Some of them will weep, or at least do the grouse equivalent, which is, I think, when they bash their wings together whilst frantically squeaking. Yes, tomorrow is the Glorious Twelfth.

Home in a taxi with a witty driver who, on parting,  bid me "Goodnight and God Bless". Who the hell does he think he is? The Pope I suppose.

Made a couple of salad sandwiches and retired to my chamber not particularly knackered. I've been a good deal worse.


Wednesday August 10, 1977

Felt quite rough this morning. Attempting to solve the problems of the world until 2am isn't quite on when you have to get out of bed and go to work within a few hours. At least members of Parliament can stagger to the Carlton Club following all-night sittings and spend a few days in bed with a bottle of gin and an ambitious chamber maid who fancies a yacht in Ibiza and a life peerage. Am I right? No, Michael, you're not right.
Carlton Club.

Uneventful day at the YP. But never fear, dear reader. If something of earth shattering importance had taken place I would not have hesitated, or forgotten, to record it here. Blimey, you can rely on me to keep you informed hot off the press.


Tuesday August 9, 1977

Happy Birthday Miss Jacqueline Myers - my dearest and sexiest cousin. 21 today.

Malt Shovel, Baildon (c)
Out tonight to the Malt Shovel at Baildon which was packed out with crumpet galore. Who'd have thought that women would go to all that trouble to get themselves tarted up and actually go out on a Tuesday evening? It never would have happened at one time. Tonight the place was seething with them.

Back at Pine Tops Tony and I 'argued' with Dad on such controversial subjects as his Late Holiness Sir Winston Churchill and the National Union of Mineworkers. ________________.


Monday August 8, 1977

Her Majesty The Queen goes to Ulster this week. The bravery of this Most Gracious Lady knows no bounds. (Excuse this pen and because of it, the handwriting). Thoughts of her personal safety are cast aside and she will walk in the land - her Kingdom no less - in which many evil people seek to see her destroyed. ________.


Sunday August 7, 1977

9th after Trinity. No hangover or ill effects. Phil looks diabolical but the rest seem to be fine. John G is a bundle of joy even first thing on a morning - it's quite amazing.

Chris & Steve.
We went to the Commercial at 12. (Martyn, Tony, Sue, Pete N, Pete M, John G, Steve, Phil, Charlie and me that is). Joined by Mum and Dad at 1pm and we all sat outside until 2. Poor Chris arrived at about five minutes to closing time just as Martyn was driving Tony home __________.

Everyone back to Pine Tops for luncheon and Edith & Ernest came round afterwards and we all played twenty questions and drank lager and made merry. The lads from Lancashire had a marvellous time. They kept saying what fantastic people Mum & Dad are. _________.

To the Bod tonight and the lads set off back home at about 10. It's gone very quiet now without John Grady's constant joking. Tony had a good time chatting with Wendy and Anne. We took the girls home at 10.30 Wendy travelling on my knee in the front seat. Quite a laugh. In fact the whole weekend has been a riot. Can hardly wait to get a Rawtenstall trip arranged so that once again we can hear the pub ring to the sound Hylda Baker, Shirley Bassey and Diana Ross.


Saturday August 6, 1977

Sue, Pete and I went to Ilkley at lunchtime. Linda W was busy making sausage rolls and Tony was out shopping. Peter just stood with his eyes glued firmly to the Rose & Crown across the road, and it was a very tempting sight. On Tony's return he suggested we go over the road 'for a few'. Peter's dream was fulfilled.

Peter M & John Grady.
Three pints and several Max Miller jokes later we were back at the flat cleaning away months of filth and devastation. Spent £11 at Hillard's on booze, would you believe. Tony had 'words' with Linda just before she left after preparing the food. It all started when she said "I'm not coming if Denise is". __________.

Andy and Linda: married Aug 6 1977.
Home by tea time. I have a message from John Grady in Rawtenstall. He and Steve want to come over for the night - is it all right? Oh My God it's bloody perfect. I waited at home for them to arrive. Mum and Dad went out for dinner and Sue and Pete went on to Ilkley. The lads arrived at about 9.30 with Phil and Charlie - a couple of friends and the 5 of us went to the Crescent and on to the Rose & Crown before going to the party. All a bit pissed. Mum and Dad came to the flat and stayed for quite a while. They were laughing with John, who is riotous. Denise arrived and left at about 2.30 with Ron. ____________.The festivities went on until about 6.30am.


Friday August 5, 1977

Out of bed at 9.30. Quite a pleasant looking morning for a change. Tony came at 10.30 and took me to Pudsey before driving off for Huddersfield, or somewhere. By 11am I'm at Auntie Mabel's with coffee and her home made ginger buns. Marlene, Mark & Debbie are visiting too. They talk about _____________.

Dave, Lynn, Alison Dixon and John Pinder
The five of us had a good lunch and Marlene left with the children at about 2. I sat with Auntie until 6. We laughed at her old photos and strangely enough some of the funniest are the most recent. The fashions at cousin Derek's wedding were amazing, and it's only five years ago.

Auntie says she goes to Rawdon Crematorium some days just to walk in the gardens and look at the book of remembrance.

I'm home at 7 just in time to see Lynn and Dave set off for Winchester and subsequently Italy. I felt quite envious as they set off down the lane all beaming with excitement.

Chris and Peter M come with the holiday photographs and they are bloody fantastic. Joined by Tony and Martyn and John. We all went to the Bod leaving John with Mum & Dad. A good night in Bradford, going on to Heaton's Hare & Hounds. Tony's party tomorrow. Sue, Pete and I are going down to the flat to help him prepare.


Thursday August 4, 1977

The great Queen Mum is 77 today. Saw the usual TV news of the crowd singing "Happy Birthday to You" outside Clarence House. Marvellous she is.

The Queen Mum.
A good night out in Baildon with Martyn and Tony. All in high spirits. The females in the pub were numerous. We named a few of them after famous celebrities of similar appearance. One in the corner was Liz Taylor, Janette Scott was drinking something like lemonade, and a sexy young thing near the juke box who brushed past me several times was Brigitte Bardot.

Tony was out with Denise last night. He stayed the night at Naomi's. He beamed all evening like a young boy. __________. Martyn is still smoking Tony's cigarettes. He's getting through 40 a day but hasn't bought a packet yet. (Just a joke). Home at about 11. A bit pissed.



Wednesday August 3, 1977

Dave Glynn's 23rd birthday. I must give him a buzz to organise the holiday reunion party. We can't lose contact with dear John, Steve and Noel. Stayed in bed until after 9 o'clock. After all, I didn't get in until 5.30. I cannot be expected to have a mere two hours sleep and then roll into the office. I phoned Sarah to break the news of my absence and she was quite chirpy and nice. "I hope you'll soon be better" she chirped.

Lady Sarah Spencer: no beauty.
Frank Perfect, the husband of the sweet, little old lady from Westgate, Tranmere Park, who befriended me in my newspaper delivery days, is dead. I haven't seen either of them for two or three years, but they took a real shine to me and always made me feel welcome. He was only 62. He was the general factory manager of J.I. Case Co Ltd, manufacturers of construction equipment, and in charge of their Leeds plant since 1964. Perhaps I should send Mrs P a letter or something.

The Prince of Wales Romance Stakes are opening again. We now have three candidates in the running (according to the beloved Press). They are: Davina Sheffield, Princess Marie-Astrid and the Lady Elizabeth Sarah Lavinia Spencer. Lady Sarah is a daughter of the 8th Earl Spencer and is step-daughter of Raine, Countess Spencer, who was previously Lady Dartmouth. Her ancestors include at least three dukes, Marlborough, Abercorn and Bedford, and the Earls of Lucan crop up once or twice in her lineage. However, she is no beauty. After the gorgeous Davina Sheffield I'm afraid it's all down hill as far as I'm concerned. I just don't know what HRH must be thinking. A big, stately home in Kent standing empty (Chevening), just waiting for the feminine touch of some willowy princess, but he's making no attempt to provide the nation with one. The Duke of Edinburgh once made a speech about 'pulling the finger out', well I think he should get onto his eldest son.


Tuesday August 2, 1977

Mum and Dad went to Pamela Nason's 21st (birthday party) with Susan and Peter and I sat at home, quite alone, watching the television. Had a bath at 9 and seriously thought of retiring to bed afterwards, but no. Dave B came up at 10 and dragged me off to the Hare to have a drink with John. I dressed like a madman and we sped down to Menston.

John looked pale. He left at about 10.45. Judith was in - looking slender with her hair all curls. Lynn was working, and when the pub was cleared Tim (the manager) bought us a drink. Lynn and David brought Judith, Kathryn and I home for home-brewed beer. We all became a little intoxicated, and when Mum and Dad came in at 2am they said the Nason party was still underway at the Nason residence. An old glint came in my eye and Judith, very like-minded, realised immediately what the outcome would be. 'Let's go down for a few', says I. Lynn escaped to bed. David went home and Kathryn exclaimed: 'it's out of the question'. So just Judith and I went down to Filedhead Road until 5am. ___________. Judith and I sat on the floor drinking gin and tonic and a bottle of Dad's home brew. We didn't say much. Just watched the others. It can be really entertaining at a party wondering just who is related to the woman in the lurex blouse, &c.


Monday August 1, 1977

Bank Holiday in Scotland and Irish Republic. Went to the Leeds Greyhound Stadium tonight with David L, MM and Marita. We didn't do too bad and after a couple of hours good fun we left with virtually the same amount of money that we started with. Nice to be out with David again. __________.

To the dogs ..
Following our moderate success at the dogs we went and spent our winnings in some distant, nameless ale-house. Ate pork pies and mushy peas by the plateful. Hardly the sort of nourishment for weight-watchers eh? Home at approx. eleven.


Sunday July 31, 1977

Delia Collis.
8th after Trinity. Luncheon party at Sarah's. I went at about 1 o'clock. A hot afternoon with wine, and plenty of it. Delia's food was wonderful as usual. Haddock flan, pizza pie, salmon mousse, cheesecake, &c. Delia is a marvellous woman. She knows I'm a good friend to Sarah. She says we have so much in common. I have always thought so. Sarah must think the same. Saw the new shih tzu dog, Sophie. Delia had wanted to call it Daisy May.

Went for a dip in Richard's swimming pool next door and John MacMurray ferried me to the YP at 5. Coming home the taxi was late. Didn't get in until nearly 1am.


Saturday July 30, 1977

Tony, Lynn and me went shopping to Bradford this afternoon. She bought a sexy nightie to take on holiday next week. Tony picked it for her of course. It's a flimsy, sideless, frontless object that I'm sure would make even the plainest female look like Dana Gillespie.

The lovely Dana Gillespie.
'I remember Yesterday'
Ate mussels from the fish market and fish and chips too. Went to Smith's and bought the Donna Summer LP 'I Remember Yesterday' on some sort of Smith's account where you don't actually pay for it.

Tony left at about 5 after having a coffee at our place. He phoned at 6. He is constantly being sick and his head is terrible. He goes off to ring the doctor and rang back at 7 and said 'you're too late for visiting time'. Eh? Yep, he's in Ilkley Hospital. It could be his appendix, or something completely different. Poor old Tony.

Sue and Pete and I went to Martyn's at 8.30 and on to the newly done-up Cow & Calf pub which isn't all that good. I'm in no mood for drinking tonight. On to the Rose and Crown where we broke the news of Tony's illness to Linda. She was quite taken aback and went into a bit of a flap.

At 10.30, even before closing time, we went back to the Cole residence to see two horrific films. Perhaps I should have said horror films, but that is just what they were not. Horrific is more apt. I fell asleep in the armchair much to amusement of the others.


Friday July 29, 1977

Went to Harrogate with Tony and Martyn. At the Harrogate Arms we were joined by Dave L, Peter M and Chris, Denise, Naomi and Yvonne, and several of the Lords and gentlemen in waiting. A hot sweaty atmosphere and my lager tasted like tonic water. I have actually lost my sense of taste since Ibiza.
Dave L: disgusted.

Chris says he'll call up with the holiday photographs in the week. _______. Dave L is disgusted at my not going to Gloucester despite all the invitations. Tony seemed fine with Denise. Martyn was smoking. Does he still imagine he's on holiday? Let's hope to God he isn't becoming addicted.

They talked of going to the horrible Il Trovatore. Sorry and all that but I just couldn't face an English discotheque with the scent of Playboy One lingering on my nostrils. They brought me home and I watched the film 'Georgie Girl' on the BBC.


Thursday July 28, 1977

Took the knackered camera back to Boots at lunchtime. Got back to the office at 1.20 and Eileen informed me that Jacqui had phoned just after I'd left and could I ring her back? Oh Christ I've lost her phone number. I can tell you that she resides at 102 Grosvenor Road, Muswell Hill, but as to her phone number, no. However, at 3.30 she rang back to see how I am and to to ask whether I made it home safely.

Miss Phillips phoned at 4 o'clock. "Are you nice and brown?" she asked. She is going to Newquay tomorrow for two weeks. _______.

Called in at Guiseley Police station to get a lift home. Standing outside reading my copy of 'The Times' I espy Martyn. He tells me he's been to Manchester to get a job as an encyclopedia salesman. Evidently, after ten weeks he'll be able to go sell his wares in the Bahamas with  phenomenal salary, and no doubt on his private jet. Dad laughed when I told him. He said he's rather sweep the roads. Martyn had bumped into Maria in the chemists shop.

Tony phoned tonight but I said I wasn't going out. He fancied a pint at the Rose & Crown. I just couldn't stand the pace. Watched tv all night instead.


Wednesday July 27, 1977

Dandy Nichols: transported.
Tired and shattered after the holiday. Sat in the lounge all night and never moved from the armchair. Occasionally I fell to sleep but for most of the time I am attentive and watchful. People like me won two world wars, you know. Newscaster Richard Baker may well have thought, while drooling over the nine o'clock news, that Michael Rhodes was in a deep sleep, but Mr Baker would have been very wrong. Michael Rhodes, whilst admitting to closing his eyes and letting out a snore here and there, was in fact soaking all the days news into his brain. From underneath a crumpled newspaper he distinctly heard the venerable Mr Baker informing the nation of the government's intention to abolish the House of Lords, re-unify Ireland, declare war on the USSR, and have Dandy Nichols transported to Australia.

Mama, bless her little heart, informed us today that from a week on Friday she is joining the ranks of the unemployed. She wants a few months holiday, tranquillity and peace.