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Wednesday October 5, 1977

To work today with Jim and Jennie Rawnsley. I could almost see Jim shivering in terror as his eight year-old daughter commanded him to 'overtake the bright yellow car in front. It might be Miss Higginbottom, my history teacher'. ______.
Duchess: abortion.

The Duchess of Kent crisis continues. The Archbishop of Canterbury is now involved and keeps making short visits to the hospital, no doubt to persuade the religious duchess that it would not be wrong to under go some sort of procedure  to terminate her pregnancy. We know what the opinions the duchess has on the subject of abortion and I can understand the torment she must be going through. However, the life of the mother is far more important to that of an unborn child. All you Roman Catholics can now rip out this page and eat it.

Norman Conquests.
Just watched TV tonight. Saw an Alan Ayckbourn play 'The Norman Conquests' starring Penelope Keith and Richard Briers which is first class - for a change. The quality of television plays is usually disgustingly low and I was delighted to se something well done. I think Penelope Keith is marvellous and cannot understand where she's been hiding for the past 20 years. Isn't it strange how these actress, and not particularly young ones, suddenly emerge from obscurity overnight?

Tuesday October 4, 1977

Sarah and I passed lunchtime together. We went to the Art Library and she took out three or four books on pottery and potting for her 'O' level evening class before going on to Malcolm's (sandwich shop) where we inadvertently robbed the assistant of the price of two egg mayonnaise sandwiches.

Back at the YP we phoned the (Leeds) Playhouse and booked to see 'Twelfth Night' by a man called Shakespeare on November 10.

The remainder of the day went by quite blissfully and nothing much more happened, except for perhaps two things. Christine phoned to say she's asked Philip Knowles to take her back, and that she expects a reply within the next few days. I expressed my surprise and hope that all will be well in the end. Poor Philip. I talked her out of this idea over the last Christmas season. Will he be dropped again?

Duchess of Kent.
The other thing. The Duchess of Kent is probably going to lose the baby she was expecting in February. The duke, who flew out to Iran yesterday, came rushing home today and took his wife to the King Edward VII Hospital, where no doubt her pregnancy will cease in the next few days. I've said all along that 44 is a bit on the old side for such a venture. All the remaining pregnant royal ladies will be quaking in their maternity smocks tonight. Poor, poor duchess.

Rang Tony tonight just to mention Muswell Hill, and just as I thought he has a prior engagement. He says he's taking Toni to some joint for dinner and a dance afterwards. ________.


Monday October 3, 1977

At work. Sarah was gorgeous. We kept talking about Saturday and she tested me on my memory of certain incidents from the evening.She was glum when I told her I couldn't remember a thing. But a lovely glint came into her eyes when I said I could recall the 'Rachmaninov interlude', which goes down as one of the most romantic incidents in my tiny life - so far. I was cooled somewhat when she said John Macmurray is back from Lithuania and that she had been to the theatre with him last night. Never have I wished anything unfortunate to befall a fellow human being as much as I did today on the poor, smiling Yorkshire Post journalist who is nothing but civility and kindness to me. As the words came from Sarah's lips I was transported to Bulgaria (or wherever he's been) and felt a growing anger that the authorities of that delightfully repressed nation had not incarcerated Macmurray in a rat infested cell, forgotten and shut away for at least 20 years. Or at least long enough for me to get my hands on Sarah. But, one cannot blame Mr Macmurray. It's Sarah fault for associating with a 24 year-old undergraduate of Scottish descent. When I seize power I'll ban English women associating with young men with surnames beginning with 'Mac'.

Saw Princess Anne tonight at the International Horse Show from the Empire Pool, Wembley. The cameras didn't focus on her 'bump'. She glared though the TV set with that fierce Windsor scowl. No sign of a Lord Phillips yet.


Sunday October 2, 1977

17th after Trinity.I received a frosty reception this morning. Mum said my behaviour was reminiscent of Uncle Harry. Dad said he has never seen me as drunk as I was last night. They both set about recalling some of the incidents that took place in the Commercial but I stopped them. I didn't want to hear.

John Pinder, Alison Dixon and Dave B.
Lynn just sat looking at me and grinning and poor Alison dodges out of the way every time I go near her. Evidently I ruined her dress with drink and half drowned her in the process. Poor girl. John (Pinder) and David gave me funny looks too. Blimey, what did I get up to? I can recall very little and shudder to think what passed between Sarah and I.

Lynn, Dave, Alison and John went to Haworth and all that Bronte country for a picnic with the spare trifles and left over pate from last night, and the half consumed bottles of Cinzano. They know how to enjoy themselves, don't they?

I entertained Tony and Martyn. They had a good time at Rawtenstall. Martyn kept saying 'fucking this' and 'fucking that' and dear Mama was only in the kitchen. I registered my displeasure. __________. I didn't mention the Muswell Hill campaign next weekend. They left after half an hour and I re-immersed myself in 'Decline and Fall' by Mr Waugh. The picnic party returned at 5 and Jack Simon came to photograph Lynn and Dave for an engagement portrait. I watched from the window as they frolicked happily on the lawn. Isn't love nice?

Just watched TV tonight. 'Poldark', the Sunday film, and all that. To be honest, I felt horribly tired. Will I live long enough to receive my telegram from the King? If I ever get one from a president I'll tear it to shreds.


Saturday October 1, 1977

One of the most blank parties I've ever attended took place this evening ... or at least I think it did. Anyway, I'd better begin at the beginning. At what seemed like the crack of dawn I was taken  off against my will, in pouring rain, to Bradford by Alison, John, Lynn and David. (Oh God. I failed to mention that Alison and John (Pinder) arrived late last night from the depths of darkest Hampshire). Oh, how it poured down.

We messed around for a while buying records and flash cubes for tonight, and then after a brief lapse of time we found solace in the nearest pub. From here we found the Bod, which was unbelievable. We were the only inhabitants of what usually is the busiest tavern in West Yorkshire. It was here where we squabbled about surnames. Lynn said that after her marriage she wouldn't mind being 'Lynn Rhodes-Baker'. This made David blow his top for some obscure reason, and banging his glass of ale on the table he yelled: "If you intend keeping that name after we are married you might as well not bother with a party tonight because I'll call the whole thing off". It took ages to calm him down. It was such a silly thing for us all to become argumentative about, but it was David's attitude that fed my niggling. Lynn was very annoyed.
At Esholt: Sarah,Peter,Sue,David,Lynn and John.

Back home by 4pm. I began drinking bilberry wine and continued to do so until Sarah arrived at about 7.45. I was under the impression that we all were indulging in this wondrous wine, but from reports told to me later, I discovered I had been the 'Lone Boozer'. Sarah's arrival I remember well. She looked divine. What happened next though I just don't know. We all went to the Commercial where I spilt lager over everyone and swore in a disgusting manner. Mum and Dad asked me to be a little quieter. My next memory is back at home smashing eggs in the kitchen and breaking my camera. Mum joined in the egg breaking and went to town sticking them down Peter's shirt.

Because of the mess I changed into David's Fred Perry shorts and then became enraptured with Sarah. We seemed to be quite alone in the dining room dancing to Donna Summer and ending with Rachmaninov's 2nd Piano concerto. _______. We kissed, Everyone else just seemed to fade away. God knows what state I was in. Normally it wouldn't concern me but for the presence of Mr & Mrs Henry Baker and family. Sarah stayed very late and I escorted her to her car when she left. I really do fancy her to death you know. It's been in my blood now for a couple of years or more. What about John Macmurray though? I am sure she fancies me - so why are we always pretending nothing exists? Why indeed.


Friday September 30, 1977

Baby John's first birthday. John called in at lunchtime to collect the presents. The house on Silverdale Drive is up for sale and John has every intention of purchasing two broken down old cottages and a couple of acres of land at Stranraer (north of the border). He's packing in his job too - in these days under a Labour government and with seven billion unemployed. I'm afraid I'm sceptical about the whole business _______.

I phoned Martyn this evening after first attempting to contact Tony, who wasn't in. I haven't heard from Tony all week, which is unusual. Lynn had a brief conversation with him and told him she was engaged. He had already been informed of this via Chris R last week. He doesn't know whether he'll make it to the engagement party either because he and Tony are probably going with Chris to Rossendale. __________.

I informed Martyn of my intention to stay at home this evening, by my fireside, quietly reading 'Decline and Fall'. This I did.


Thursday September 29, 1977

To Sarah's after work and on to the Leisure Centre at Horsforth at 6.30 for my first ever game of squash. I really looked the part in David B's Fred Perry shorts and shirt, and I could see just how much Sarah was taken by my legs. Woman usually are, you know. We bashed about for about forty minutes and I really quite enjoyed the 'incident'. I didn't do too badly, either. Naturally, I didn't win, but Sarah had every confidence in my eager and forthright attitude. I fancy her.

From here we went with Marilyn (Wheeler) to the Damn Yankee and then to the Regent at Chapel Allerton. The food was good and M told hilarious tales of _________ prostitution activities. _____ By all accounts is 'no good in bed'. We laughed a good deal.

The Regent was hideous. So many people, and so overpowering. A friend of Marilyn's bought me two drinks and wouldn't let me get him one in return. He's going to China next week forever and I'll never be able to repay his kindness. I understand now why _______ inhabits this joint. If a strange man is prepared to buy me drinks, just what are they doing for ______? Eh? Know what I mean? Wink, wink.

Sarah brought me home and I wanted to drag her in the back of the car and show her a thing or two, but for some reason I just said 'good night' and watched her drive off.  ________.



Wednesday September 28, 1977

Lynn and Dave became engaged. He presented her with a ring at about 7.30 and then took her off to Flashman's for a feast. Before this, however, we put away three or four bottles of that champagne substitute which tastes even better than the real thing.

Rt Hon David Steel: cause of nausea.
Lynn looked sublimely happy and I am sure it was a great relief to poor David, who just wants to settle down without any hullabaloo. Mum, Dad and I put away a few lagers after Lynn & Dave had left and then opened the Pernod. They returned at about midnight and we continued with the celebration session. Lynn especially was somewhat pissed and confided in her fiance to feelings of nausea. I was in a similar position too, but it was not all down to alcohol. David Steel and the Liberal party conference on the BBC was the cause of my intermittent vomiting, which completely flattened the whole occasion.

I took quite a few photographs of the happy couple, and so too did David. He now refers to me as 'Our Kid' and I'm sure he'd really like me for a brother. His own brothers are very sober, serious young men.


Tuesday September 27, 1977

Not a particularly wild, passionate or even remotely exciting day. I sorted out Lynn and David's engagement announcement with the fat lady on the reception desk and if all goes to plan - which no doubt it will not - the historic announcement will appear on page 32 of the Yorkshire Evening Post tomorrow evening.

'Mr D.A. Baker
Miss L. Rhodes

The engagement is announced between David Andrew, second son of Mr & Mrs H.T. Baker, of Farthingstone, Old Pool Bank, Pool-in-Wharfedale, and Lynn, elder daughter of Mr & Mrs L. Rhodes, of Pine Tops, Hawksworth Lane, Guiseley, near Leeds.'

Evelyn Waugh.
Otherwise, it was all quiet on the Western Front. Continued reading 'Margaret: Princess who appears quite a lot in the Daily Express gossip column' by Willi Frischbender. Nothing new in it at all. Mum, who is also reading it, keeps saying: 'Thank God we didn't buy it'.

'Decline and Fall' by Evelyn Waugh gets better. What a remarkable mind that man had. The character of Paul Pennyfeather is excellent and everyone who reads the book will be drawn immediately to his side. He calls for so much sympathy. The innocence of the principal character too is wonderful. Oh why don't I just go to sleep?


Monday September 26, 1977

Work was quite lazy. We made a birthday card for Michael Robertshaw, whose birthday it is today - his 21st. Eileen has been quite a misery since returning from honeymoon and today she smiled once or twice but is still quite off -hand with me. The reason for this I fail to understand but it must have something to do with Christine Byram's party. I have no intention of worrying about it anyway.

A Woody Allen film on the BBC tonight.'Play it Again, Sam'. Thoroughly hilarious. That actor is one of the funniest men alive I'm sure.

Mr Fishmonger's book.
Roddy Llewellyn.
Edith Blackwell has lent us a copy of 'Margaret: Princess without a cause' by Willie Fishsomethingorother. I fully intended purchasing it but after glancing over it I am so glad I haven't wasted the £5.50. It is just like the Helen Cathcart biography with a bit of extra spice gathered from the cheap Sunday newspapers and gossip from the European and American journals. Coincidentally the papers today have stories about Margaret in them. According to one, Roderic Victor Llewellyn (born October 9, 1947, son of Sir Harry Llewellyn, KB, and grandson of Sir David Llewellyn, 1st Baronet) is being groomed as a courtier with the intention of marrying him to Princess Margaret after her divorce next year. From his pedigree it's easy to see he is not the sort of low 'drop out' he's been made out to be. He is at least in Burke's  Peerage. Grandson on the paternal side of a baronet and on the maternal side of the 5th Baron de Saumarez. The young man no longer wears an ear ring and the t-shirt embossed with 'Roddy for PM' on the front has been replaced by pin striped suits and sober ties. It certainly seems he is being prepared for the trappings of royalty.

I retired to bed with Willie Fishmonger's boring, bitty book. I could do a better job and certainly get more of the facts right. Mr Fish 'n Chips in merely a profiteer, a sensationalist, a scoundrel. In fact I'm in two minds whether or not to go on reading it. 'Decline and Fall' by Mr Waugh is far more entertaining and certainly more of a bedtime book. Who knows what nightmares I'd be subjected to if I were to drift off to sleep after reading of the sexual exploits of Princess Margaret, which I am sure are based on nothing more than the idle chatter of ignorant people.



Sunday September 25, 1977

16th after Trinity. John's 21st birthday. ________.WE ARE A UNITED FAMILY.

John: 21st birthday.
Decline and Fall.
Joy went back to Leeds last night and is going to visit Paul (with the handbag) in Halifax today. Jacqui slept here on the settee. We had breakfast at about 11.30 and John came up afterwards and we celebrated his birthday with a few bottles of wine, which saw us through until about 2. Dom(inic) Melville, whose birthday was yesterday, joined us. Jacqui demonstrated the art of tap dancing on our kitchen floor which was hilarious. Lynn loved every minute of it.

John (who had gone home at 12) returned at 2 in pouring rain to commandeer Pete and I for a spot of labouring work. We dismantled a porch and carried it from Netherfield Road to some remote part of Guiseley and helped to erect it there. It was his birthday present. (The labouring). I haven't given him a proper present yet. He quite understood. He called me a 'bastard'. The three of us did a lot of laughing. John was especially cheerful.

Peter and I returned to Pine Tops and had a late lunch, or tea. Jacqui had a pleasant chat with Mum and Lynn. We watched TV and I refused to leave my chair until after 8.

Joy returned at about 7.30. She hadn't been to Halifax and instead her lover came to Leeds. The poor soul has no sense of direction. They left at about 8.30 and I promised to go to Muswell Hill on October 8. Jacqui is a nice girl.

In bed tonight reading 'Decline and Fall' by Evelyn Waugh. A very good novel. In fact I was sat laughing in bed. Ho Ho Ho.


Saturday September 24, 1977

Out of bed at 9.30. Yes, half past nine. I went to Guiseley for a large family-size tin of Eno's Liver Salts and a bottle of orange barley water. Home by 10 feeling much better for my walk. David and Dad were on the drive at work on the Toyota.

Jacq & Joy on Ilkley Moor.
I was commanded to an audience with Mama. It's the usual story. Complaints about things that go pop, bang, and what have you, in the night, or perhaps I should say early morning. She was quite adamant this time about orgies, and future orgies in hours of darkness, and so pained that I vow never again to bring a living soul home after a night out. Mama, whilst sipping her morning tea, threatened terrorist action. When angered I suppose she could make the Bader-Meinhoff gang resemble the Wombles. I went cold with fear.

I have an amusing tale to recount to you. Do you recall M___P___? The mama of Carole? Yes, now you do. Well, it seems she's been caught altering price tickets at Presto again. Terribly sad I know, but there it is. Anyhow, it came to pass that Susan was reading of this incident, and peering over the top of the local paper she said quite seriously to Mama: "My God. That woman must be a nymphomaniac".

Jacqui and Joy came at about 3.30 and we went to Ilkley Moor where I leapt around with a camera. We made spectacles of ourselves before moving to Bolton Abbey for further revelries. The girls are mad. Truly insane. They have never before been north of Luton and are impressed by the rolling greenery of Wharfedale, but I make a terrible guide.

They came back for tea with the family and then we ventured back to Leeds to get ready for John's party at Oakwood (Hall). We didn't leave Leeds until 9 o'clock and the girls and I went to the Old White Horse at Bingley with Sue and Peter. Tony and Martyn joined us. Tony said he wasn't going to Oakwood but on seeing Joy he changed his mind. We got to Oakwood for about 10.30. John and Maria came with Chris and Pete M and Steve Hudson. Joy pinched John for a dance. Jacq and I danced all night. Well, until 2. _______.



Friday September 23, 1977

Eileen showed me an article in that glorious relic 'Woman's Own' which I found hilarious. It states that the Royal Family is becoming far too large, the biggest one in fact since Victoria's day. Laugh at the thought that by the year 2000 the south of England will over over run by minute Queen Mothers, devouring and devastating crops and making a general nuisance of themselves. _______.
Royal Family: too large.

Burdened with a ghastly hangover today. I'm home completely shattered at the usual hour and spend the time until 9 o'clock readying myself for Angela (Singer's) party. Jacqui phoned at 9.15 and by 10.15 we were teamed up outside the Yorkshire Post and we made our way to Headingley.

I loathe going to parties stone cold sober, but I soon remedied that. It was rewarding watching bleary eyed journalists eyeing up Jacqui and Joy. Peter Fearon attempted to woo Joy with his Fleet Street routine which failed brilliantly. She then went off to dance with a Daily Express man. I became quite drunk.

Carol Johnson and Roger Ratcliffe arrived at the same time, but not together. The girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves and were very sociable. Did I do a tango with Brenda Rankin? I hope not.

Joy brought me home and I foolishly had them in for coffee, giggles and screams, slamming doors and other loud robust noises. Naturally, Mama was awakened by the commotion but made no assault on us downstairs, luckily. They set off back for the depths of Roundhay at some unbelievable hour and I departed to my chambers for a few hours shut-eye. A very pleasant party. Angela Singer deserves to be the first woman editor of a national newspaper.


Thursday September 22, 1977

John's official birthday party with his Mummy and Daddy and brothers and sisters. He came up at 8.30. ______. The six of us, plus David and Peter, went to the Commercial where we were joined by Chris Ratcliffe ________. At 10.30 I went out with John and asked him to come back home with us for a few drinks, but he declined. _______. He said he and Maria are going to Oakwood Hall on Saturday and I said I'd go along too. Jacqui will be in Yorkshire to help me 'freak out' in true style.

Later, Dave and I clowned around with gladioli (dead ones at that) and I played with something called a shuttle that Mum had acquired from (Abraham) Moon's Mill.



Wednesday September 21, 1977

The autumn equinox, I believe. Yes folks, with a rendering of 'Autumn Leaves' I now bid farewell to you in order to roast my chestnuts on my little garden bonfire. Oh, how I love this time of year!  The browns! The golds! The burnt yellows! No.To be honest I can take it or leave it.

An autumn without a good old general election is just not on. It's like having peaches without cream or whisky without American Dry Ginger and lots of ice. I'm sure that dear Mrs Thatcher thinks along these lines too. To see the beloved leader of the only true political party, ballot papers in hand, coming into focus through a typically misty autumn dawn would be a sight to cherish. But alas, the sorrowing nation must now wait until this gorgeous season is once again upon us before the Sainted Margaret - her hair burnished with the magnificent hue of autumn leaves - rides into Parliament as our prime minister.

Otherwise a normal day the YP and with little play.


Tuesday September 20, 1977

Martyn phoned. We talked about Stockport, but he disagreed with everything I said. He made some comments about Carol J being a 'nice girl'. ________. Tony rang too to talk about the Jacqui/Joy visit. He suggested picking up the girls at Leeds City Station but I told him they were coming up by car.

Jacqui phoned at lunchtime to say they are staying at Elmete Lane, Roundhay, from about 9pm on Friday. They are going to phone me when they arrive and I will meet them and take them on to Angela Singer's party at Headingley. Chris phoned for John Grady's number.

John came to see us for a few minutes. We are going out on Thursday, first for a few drinks with Mum & Dad and then on to a disco with Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave.

I made one of my irregular visits to Hough the denist who just glanced at my teeth and told me to come back at the end of October. What a wasted journey.Feeling quite energetic I walked from Rawdon to Guiseley where John (or is it Tim?) Mounsey (of Oakwood Hall fame) picked me up and brought me half way up Hillway. He's a good laugh and although we've lived near each other all these years I hardly know him.

Fred Mulley slumbering ...
Saw in one of the papers that the Defence minister, Fred Mulley, is probably going to be replaced following the embarrassing but hilarious incident at the Silver Jubilee RAF display at Finningley when he dropped off to sleep in a chair next to Her Majesty the Queen, who was not amused.

Sat and ate Susan's home made toffee this evening laughing at Magnus Magnusson on 'Mastermind'. One of the Sunday papers carried an article saying that Diana Dors is suing a magazine over allegations that twenty years ago she played strip poker with Mr Magnusson and Bernard Levin. Very improbable I know and like a Monty Python sketch, but I bet it's true. Something as ridiculous as that must have some truth in it.

Diana Dors, speaking in the Sunday People after Elvis bit the dust referred to Presley as her 'SVENGALI'. That was a new word to me. Am I illiterate?


Monday September 19, 1977

Lynn told me this morning that she and David bought an engagement ring on Saturday. _______. She looks very happy now. Thank God her future is secure.

Mum says that Derek and Jennifer's baby born on Sept 1 or 2nd  is to be called Paul Justin. Just thought I'd let you know in case Mr P.J. Myers is the current prime minister.

Starving peasants ....
The (national) bread strike finished tonight leaving many peasants dead or dying throughout the starving kingdom, not. No one would have guessed that a bakery strike was on at all. The news media have blown it out of proportion. One would think we were in 18th century France the way they've gone on. "Ma'am, the peasants are starving. They want bread." "Oh let them eat cream crackers".

What do you think about Margaret Thatcher's proposal for a referendum on trade unions should they ever get a future Conservative government over a barrel?  I'm not sure really. I was opposed to the 1975 EEC referendum, but cast my vote all the same. Reducing the authority of the Houses of Parliament can only result from such action, but then the destruction of parliament as we know it is on the cards anyway.


Sunday September 18, 1977

15th after Trinity. Felt incredibly revolting again. Mrs Glynn made Dave and I a massive, greasy but glorious breakfast, and at 12 we set out for what was for all intents and purposes, a walk. The brightness of the sun was hideous and we sought solace in a pub with a loud juke box and friendly barmaid, even though she was a bit rough. "I've been married four times but never divorced" she proudly told us as she pulled the Guinness and went on to say she'd thrown one of her wedding rings in the river Mersey and "one in the bloody river on the Isle of Man", which due to my lack of geographical knowledge remains anonymous. Don't we mix with a nice kind of woman?
Dave G.

Dave says he thinks we are going to have a wedding in the family and so I just could not contain myself and revealed all. He was jubilant and plans sending an hilarious card on Sept 28. He likes Lynn and Dave immensely and jokes about being on the top table at the wedding. It turned into another session and by 2pm we were marching back to the Hollywood canned yet again.

Roast lamb for lunch. Afterwards we slept in our armchairs. At 8pm he saw me off from Stockport Station for Manchester. Coach back to Leeds and home for 10.30. The family were watching TV and eating a Chinese meal. I felt half starved but nobody had thought to put some grub on one side for me. Disgusting treatment when I had been many miles away for the weekend.

Watched the expurgated version of 'Soldier Blue' on the BBC which was quite boring. I feel a cold coming on. Blocked head, nose, ears, &c.


Saturday September 17, 1977

I have very strange thoughts about the events of last night. Sarah became so ridiculously miserable _______. From what I remember of our visit to Wetherby Delia and I were eating carnations and slapping turkeys before we left for home. (For some reason a very large, uncooked turkey was sitting in the bath in the upstairs loo of the private flat of the pub where we made merry).

Turkey slapping ....
I was up at 9.30 and expected a call from Delia about returning to Harewood for coffee, but the summons never arrived. Had a bath and left at 12.30 for Stockport.

I was in Manchester by 2.30 and managed to get through the blockade of Manchester Utd fans who were attempting to sabotage the Lord Mayor's Parade. I got lost in Stockport and arrived at the Hollywood after 4pm. Dave G was awakened from his afternoon slumbers and he greeted me with yawns and bleariness of eye.

Tonight to Stockport County Club with Dave, Steve B, Garry B, and Bill (Wright). Bill is one of the most hilarious people I have ever met. We just acted wild and really daft. At one point an act on the stage just stopped to watch us lads performing. In tears laughing. Mind you, it doesn't take Agatha Christie to fathom that the drink intake was at the bottom of the cause of this revelry. Back to the Hollywood at 2.30 not that I can remember anything about it. Stockport always guarantees severe intoxication and in most cases, paralysis. Visits here should perhaps be banned. Perhaps Margaret Thatcher will put a stop to it all next autumn.