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Wednesday March 2, 1977

54F in Leeds today. Is bloody summer here already? I'll be 22 before you can say Takeo Miki. Anyway, it was quite a good day all in all.

At lunchtime I met Martyn at Dormie Dress Hire and we're both togged up for evening wear for David B's 21st. The suits are going to cost us £9.50 each to hire, which neither of us can afford, but it will be so worth it for the laughs we'll get and to see the look on the faces of the other guests. Very smart we'll be. I'm not telling anyone at home so as to enhance my spectacular entry into the Aero Club. Tony is getting his gear from Moss Bros. in Bradford.

Sir Frank, later Lord Marshall.
This evening Sarah and I were closeted together in our tiny lift at the YP with that great personage Sir Frank Marshall. By way of conversation I discussed our air conditioning system with him and he told us that his 'members' had enjoyed their visit too. Who or what are his members? Who, or what is Sir Frank Marshall anyway?

I have a couple of quid left over from last night's extravaganza and am sorely tempted to go out tonight for a drink. Let us pray I can withstand the temptation and may God guide me through this sinful evening.

Later that same night: Slip into a coma in an armchair. Tired and shagged out. When did I last go to bed before bewitching hour? You'll be flicking over the pages for the last couple of years to find the answer to that one. No phone calls and feel too lazy to make any. Must write to Judith and get something sorted for March 12.

Had a bath and returned to the TV. A programme glorifying the comedian Tommy Cooper. Must have my hair cropped tomorrow. I can't even afford to do that! Suicide is the only way out.