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Sunday February 6, 1977

Septuagesima. The Silver Jubilee of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second. Bells peal and prayers are said for the Sovereign lady in churches throughout the realm. To celebrate the joyous, historic event Mum, Dad, Sue, Peter N and myself  went for lunch to the Birch Inn at Wilsill, near Pateley Bridge. Four or five pints of lager and a sirloin. Peter had a steak too, Mum had fish, Susan a curry and Dad a ploughman's lunch.
Birch Tree Inn, Wilsill

At 2pm we returned homeward and called on John & Maria just in time for JPH's liquid liver lunch. A messy business. He is a beautiful child.

To the YP at 5.30 and have a nightmare of evening. Rang Lynne. She's at Pickering cinema with Karl and Peter. Rang her back at 10pm. She tells me of her weekend cake baking saga and the dog's latest illness, &c. Home feeling miserable.


Saturday February 5, 1977

'I may have the body of a weak and
feeble woman'
Rang Lynne this morning with every intention of 'calling it a day'. By 'It' I of course mean our love life, and by 'love life' I of course mean going down the pub three or four times a week and behaving quite respectably and boring. That famous Rhodes cowardice raised it's famous head, and I was sat on Mama's bed dialling. I just couldn't do it and we ended up discussing the weather and rising sugar prices. Oh, why am I such a feeble man? Indeed 'I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman' applies just as much to me as it did to the Empress Josephine*** or whoever coined the phrase in the first place. I am always in some kind of shitting mess, aren't I, dear, patient readers? If you are reading this please deposit this diary in the nearest dustbin because it just isn't worth it at all.

With the lovely Naomi Downing ...


Out to the Hare with Chris and Tony at 8.30. Tony is in a rotten mood._______.We move on to the Vineyard at Ilkley and then Oakwood Hall and he cheers up. Susan Hollins was at Oakwood celebrating her 21st birthday, but no one else. Not even Naomi and Co. I like Miss Downing a good deal. She makes me feel that I'm not the only piss artist in the country. A good girl all the same, and I like to have Maria on about her.


***Elizabeth the First, you idiot.


Friday February 4, 1977

Sorry about all this. It's an accident (referring to scribblings and crossings out at the head of the page). Anyway, to get down to business.: Lynne doesn't arrive until 8 and we don'e get to the Hare until NINE. Have a rotten couple of hours. Feel 'off it' and completely shagged out and Lynne looks like 2lb of wet haddock.


2lb of wet haddock.
 I try and liven myself up by going to talk to Judith. It's no good - things are going to have to drastically change. Home in a downpour when the pub shuts and Lynne leaves for Thornton-le-Dale. I push Peter's car down the road (I always assumed cars had engines?) Change hurriedly and go with Tony and Martyn to Il Travatore dropping off Janet Simon at home on the way. See Denise, Carole, Karen Moorhouse, Naomi Downing, &c. Oh and Chris and Pete M. Chris and Pete storm off when C sees Martyn with Miss Moorhouse. What a mix-up. I chat seriously with Carole and tell her she's fabulous and that Lynne and I virtually through. Home pissed.

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Thursday February 3, 1977

Busy day at the YP again. At lunchtime I went to Schofield's to claim Mama's repaired coffee perculator which I carry off without having to pay anything. Look in Austick's and run my fingers through 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey. I shall have to buy it.

Ring Lynne. She's getting a cold, pnuemonia, or something. I feel bored and utterly flattened. I fancy having a passionate, close, sexy romance with a lusty bombshell. Lynne just isn't up to it. Where will it all end?

Jim Callaghan: Scottish referendum
To Yeadon cinema with Lynne to see 'The Omen' (Yes, I've seen it before). It is good. Lee Remick especially. She goes off to Roundhay at 11pm in a gust of wind, hail and conglomoration of other elements.

Sit with a Scotch in front of the TV watching one of President Carter's fireside chats to the Universe from his White House parlour. Greasy little man. Never trust a president with gold fillings and Mohair pullovers that's what I say.

Quake in my socks at the late night news with Miss (Angela) Rippon. Evidently, Scotland, Wales and other bits of the UK are going to have one of those referendums in November to decide whether they want to get out of the Empire or not. We under-privileged English do not have a say in the matter. The tartan maniacs and mean leek-growing sods can pull out on us at any time but we English do not have the right to say whether we want  them to go or not.  Jim Callaghan really is the bloody limit. We should have a referendum asking the simple question: "Don't you think it's about time the Labour Government resigned? Answer 'Definately' or 'Yes'.

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Wednesday February 2, 1977

Forgive my use of the biro, but once again I have mislaid my fountain pen. It'll turn up. A rotten day. On the way to the YP with Jim I see, with horror, CB slumped in her wrecked car half way across New Road Side (Horsforth) surrounded by blood stained rescuers and salvage equipment. What can have happened?

Miss Rushworth
Judith rings to say she's actually ill and has to miss tonight's 'Pink Panther' spectacular. Are we jinxed or something? I know all about 'true love finding a way' but I think we've well and truly stopped it in its tracks this time. What's your opinion anyway of two-timers? Please do not forget I am only 22 and have never done it before. Blimey, some people do worse things. Look at the Black Panther for instance. Should I break with Lynne altogether? Come on, you lot out there. Can't you see I need some help? For God's Sake Help me someone!

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Tuesday February 1, 1977

Go to Pudsey at 12.30 to have lunch with Auntie Mabel. She makes a massive meal and gets great pleasure from stuffing me to bursting point. She shows me a pile of old newspapers including a copy of the Daily Herald from June '53 featuring the Coronation and a pathetic magazine of the love-match between Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon.

After the enormous lunch it's to Pudsey cemetery to find my great-grandparents Wood and Wilson. We're soon amidst the gravestones conducting a search of Pudsey's dead centre.

Sarah Ann Wood (1866-1926)
My Wilson grandparents have no headstone, and after an hour wallowing in the mud we find the Wood grave beneath a holly bush. My great-grandmother, Sarah Ann Wood (nee Carling) died December 22, 1926, aged 60 (born 1866?) and my great-grandfather, Harry Wood, died June 13, 1928, aged 69 (born 1859?). My great-uncle John Cyril James Wood, also in the tomb, died September 4, 1924, aged 19. An interesting find. Back to Mabel's for tea and a night in front of the TV. I'm sure she enjoyed today's macabre adventure. She was only a child when she last visited her grandparents' graves. Leave her at 9 o'clock and home by 10.


Monday January 31, 1977

Marita 22. Don't alight from 'neath the sheets until a late hour this morning. A wet, miserable day. Mummy is still indisposed with influenza and is confined to her chambers. Papa doesn't look much better.

Dorothy's pub, the White Horse
Go see Lynne at the Red Lion at 1.30 and have a couple of drinks. She's in two minds about Stephanie's proposition and somehow I don't think the Divine Vera approves. Dispose of the sweet thing by 2.30 and then go to Cousin Dorothy's pub, the White Horse. She entertains me until 5 o'clock discussing the Wilson family. She says my great-grandmother, Rella Wilson, had red hair, couldn't read or write, was a very good cook. Her Piccalilli was second to none. She (Rella) was delighted that Dorothy went to grammar school (which she did circa 1923). Dorothy is very straight-forward and seems severe in a daft sort of way. She frightened the living daylights out of me at first. Had an interesting time and promise to keep her informed.

Go to John and Maria's and stay until 9pm. Baby is better but Maria is feeling off it now. Watch 'Panorama'. It looks at the Queen's reign - very good.  John was interested but Maria kept hurling abuse at the TV.

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Sunday January 30, 1977

4th after Epiphany. Up at 12 noon just as John and Maria arrive with JPH in his perambulator. He's parked in the lounge and the usual race follows to see which member of the family can first lay hands on him. The porridge he'd had for breakfast at Molly's didn't stay down. In fact he brought a fair amount of it up all over me. Lynne clears off in the direction of Chris's at Horsforth to collect Peter M for the great trek back to Ty-Onnen. Why do they have to go home just for one bloody night?

John and his first-born.
We had lunch at 2. Peter N included which is quite a laugh because he always 'has a go' at Mum. He has a great sense of humour.

I work tonight. Yes, I give the YP use of my amazing brain for one whole evening. Work 6.20pm - 1am. Not too bad an onslaught really. Did about 48m tons of filing. Oh God, I'm confused again. Women, I'm afraid. Ring Judith and arrange to go see the 'Pink Panther' next Wednesday. We joke about our constant failure to see the danmed thing. Since the Wednesday after Christmas the arrangements have gone hay-wire. Rang Dave Glynn and had a chat.


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Saturday January 29, 1977

Emerge (from my bed) at 11 or so and hear that Lynn and Lynne are going shopping together to Bradford this afternoon which is a relief because NEVER AGAIN will I go shopping with Miss Mather. Our shopping excursion the Saturday before Christmas was one of the most nauseating experiences I have ever had. I'm not joking either. She goes down to Burley-in-W (Lynne that is) to see Stephanie Ferguson about sharing her country residence and comes back saying the rental for the room is £7 plus food and half the bills. Not bad because she forks out £7 already in petrol each week.

Lynn in her dungarees.
Lynn and Lynne return from Bradford at 5 o'clock with a pair of dungarees each. _______. We go to to the Hare at 9 o'clock after collecting John and Maria from Molly & Jim's. Chris, Pete M, Lynne, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Peter N, Christine D, Graham (Airey), CB (with Rick Marshall !!). Quite a good evening really, especially when Chris gave me the £5 he'd borrowed and which I'd quite forgotten about. Stay at the Hare until 11 and then we take John & Maria back to Molly & Jim's where we remain until 3.15am talking with Molly. She went into great detail about an Edward G. Robinson film that had just finished on the telly. I think she's tremendous and sit enthralled, but by 2.45 John and Lynne were asleep. Only Maria and I survived.

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Friday January 28, 1977

Meet Miss Denise Akroyd outside the YP at 1pm and we go over to the Central and meet Marita who buys us both a pint of lager in honour of her twenty second birthday tomorrow. D and I sit until 2.30 and discuss a few controversial topics including Mr_________.She makes it all sound like Wuthering Heights. A good girl. We plan to have an orgy at her place on February 11.
Back to the YP. Ring Lynne and connect her to Stephanie Ferguson so she can enquire about the Burley-in-Wharfedale residence. Lynne is cheesed off buggering about between Thornton-le-Dale & Roundhay. Quite understandable I think.

Meanwhile: 8 o'clock,  the two of us head to the (Horsforth) Leisure Centre where we attempt to watch the squash finals. Sarah and Peter (Baker) are in foul moods, and after battling though dinner of yet another chicken leg and frozen peas I'd had just about enough. Sarah sobbing all over the dinner table didn't do much to improve the atmosphere. Lynne and I cleared off as soon as it was decently possible to Oakwood Hall, where another 'mortuary atmosphere' prevailed. Peter & Dave Lazenby, Miss Akroyd and Michelle are romping around to old Showaddywaddy singles, &c. Need I say more?

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