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Friday July 28, 1978

Up at 6 o'clock in the bloody morning to wave goodbye to John and Alison. My alarm clock has opened up a whole new world for me and my first view of a sunrise was one I will never forget.

John and Alison shot off to Itchen Abbas and they'll be back in September for the first nuptials of this happy little foursome.

I met Jacq at 8:30 and Dave L picked us up in the car from here {Pine Tops}. We went to the Bod at Bradford and the three of us thoroughly enjoyed it. My first visit to the place this year.

David laughs at Jacq saying she sounds like the bird in the Campari advertisement where a suave young man clad in a white dinner jacket asks: "Were you truly wafted here from paradise?" to which she replies in a broad cockney accent: "Nah, from Luton airport."

Back home at about 11:30. Jacq and I sat about singing hymns until we fell asleep in each others arms. How romantic and delightful.



Thursday July 27, 1978

A Jim and Margaret Nason night. But first I have a piece of historic news to let you all in on.

I left the YP at my usual hour and Dave picked me up half way up Hawksworth Lane. John Pinder was also with Dave ~ they'd been to Rochdale or Doncaster or somewhere on a job. John P was his usual cheerful self. At home Alison and the family were having a glass of wine. It was obvious that something was afoot. Alison had a glint in her eye. John announced: "we're getting married on October 28". John has a house with his new job at Oxford, and it's given them the impetus to take the plunge. Lynn and Sue are to be bridesmaids and all the family are invited to the wedding.

So when Jim and Margaret arrived we had something to celebrate. It was far from riotous and we ended up playing 20 questions. Poor John P looked bored silly. He was under the impression we were going out for a drink.


Wednesday July 26, 1978

Moon's last quarter 23:31

To Lawn Road with Papa for a {wall}paper hanging session. Graham (Airey) was buidling the fireplace in the lounge. It strongly resembles Reginald Dixon's organ in the Tower Ballroom at Blackpool, but it is very attractive and original all the same.

Back home Lynn and Dave are awaiting John (Pinder) and Alison's arrival but by 12 o'clock I was too exhausted to join them in the vigil.


Tuesday July 25, 1978

St James

John called up tonight with an advert for the MG that he wants me to stick in the Evening Post. It is Maria's birthday tomorrow. Mum produced a card and a present for her. Sue and Lynn also sent offerings. I limited myself to a tiny, yet hilarious card with one of my odes inside. Andrew Marvell isn't half as marvellous as me.


Monday July 24, 1978

The YP landed on me with a resounding crash. The whole thing is simply too horrific to discuss. Well, it was like this. I was minding my own business in the fashion that I usually mind my own business in, and quite by chance I found myself on Wellington Street, a grubby, protrusion smelling of alcohol, abutting the famous City Square. Then it happened. Yes, a large, grey, slime~covered building leapt out in my path and before I could struggle or make a dash for it I had been totally devoured. It was the Yorkshire Post.

Ode to the Yorkshire Post

I believe you are a newspaper,
Keith's Mum seems to think so anyway,

Myself I prefer the Daily Mail,
I don't know why.

E. Jarvis Thribb.


Sunday July 23, 1978

9th after Trinity

Rain. Went to Leeds at 11:30 and met Jacq at the Y.W.C.A. We walked to Whitelocks and waited for Cheryl and Steve, the bloke who gave her a lift up to Leeds.

Just Jacq and I having a quiet drink until they rolled in at about 1pm. We had an hour there and then came home here where I gave them a few drinks. Mum was acting strangely and sat moping in the dining room.

Cheryl drank Cinzano. She wasn't as amusing as on previous occasions. She and Steve only see each other on Sundays. They left at about 3:30 and Jacq followed after tea. I feel listless.


Saturday July 22, 1978

Sun rises 05:09 Sun sets 21:04

Jacq went off to Dacre, Son & Hartley at 8:30. I loathe being at home. "My Heart Belongs to Ibiza, Dear Old Ibiza Town" is the refrain, &c.

Mum, Dad, Lynn, Sue, Pete and Dave went out at 8 with the Nasons to to the Riversdale at Burley-in-Wharfedale to celebrate Sue's 19th.

At 8:30 Jacq came up with Cheryl who is staying at the Dragonara in Leeds for the weekend. We had a few drinks and they made me listen to Pink Floyd's 'Dark Side of the Moon' and a Wishbone Ash LP.

At 9 I phoned Chippy at the Shoulder of Mutton pretending to be Eamon Andrews. It went down very well. The three of us went down to the Shoulder for a couple of hours. Chippy fancied his chances with Cheryl. Not a chance. She phoned for a taxi and she and Jacq went off to Leeds. Chippy was furious. He came back home with me and had a few beers and when Pete got back from the Riversdale he drove the lad home.


Friday July 21, 1978

Susan is 19 years old today. At midnight we celebrated in the square in San Antonio with Sangria and three hours later we were compelled by Herr Global to board a plane to Manchester.

Snatched from paradise ~ from the topless, bronzed, strawberry~eating jet~setters to the grey thighed typists of Leeds.

By 8:00am we were at the Hollywood Hotel drinking milky tea with Mrs Glynn. By 10 I was nestling in my mother's bossom at Pine Tops. The shock of this upheaval is no good for me at all.

One minute you're basking in the sun and the next your on a number 33 bus clad in oil~skins and furs with your toes going blue at the ends.

Mum, Dad and Lynn have been safely preserved these past two weeks. No scandal or idle gossip is forthcoming other than the sudden departure of Edith and Ernest to Paignton. They departed in a large black van on Monday morning and never even said goodbye. Mum and Dad are upset and stunned by this.

Tonght I met Jacq at 8:30 and we went to the Drop. _________________. We came back at 10:30 and she stayed the night.


Thursday July 20, 1978

Our last full day in San Antonio. Tonight we went out to celebrate Sue's birthday. Chippy and Gus met a group of girls from Dublin, and Dave and I, Sue and Pete chatted with Ken and a couple of girls, whose names escape me, in the bar at the El Capone.

At 11:30pm the four of us said godbye to Jed and Co and we headed for the square near the fountains. At the stroke of midnight Sangria was ordered and we prepared for our last serious drink of the holiday. Isn't it ghastly?


Wednesday July 19, 1978

Dave G goes frying chickens with Jed and the Rick Organisation. Ken was greatly impressed and he offered Dave a position with them next year. He didn't commit himself. He must be raving mad. I'd leap at the chance to evacuate England and so too would Dave when it comes down to it.

Back at the hotel Dave asked me: "How about next year, then?". I was stunned really because I never thought they'd accept me but Dave seems to think they were so impressed with his display of 'chefmanship' that we could both come out next season on our own terms. Who knows?

I can see difficulties ___________________.


Tuesday July 18, 1978

Things have been different {on holiday} this year than I would have imagined. ________.


Monday July 17, 1978

Dave, Sue, Pete and I went by bus to Ibiza Town and then on to Portinatx. The latter is a quiet but beautiful place surrounded by hills and with a wonderful coastline. It's just the place for Lynn and Dave and an ideal place for a honeymoon. We managed to get a few photos of the place and three or four of the hotels, but I couldn't remember the name of the place where Lynn and Dave are booked in. We only spent a couple of hours there. I had to keep my shoulders shrouded.

Dave G's been invited by Jed to accompany him to a barbecue on Wednesday to roast about 150 chickens for the beach party, and if it's a success who knows what might happen? Dave would love to come and work in Ibiza, but he needs the push ~ like we all do. I'm sure he wouldn't come out here alone, but with an able bodied assistant chef who knows where it might lead?


Sunday July 16, 1978

Pam, who came (to Ibiza) the same day as we did with an open ticket until October, packed up and returned to Nottingham today because she is so disillusioned with Rick & Co. She's sad about how San Antonio has altered over the past couple of years. How can Nottingham be better! My God, things must be bad if the likes of Pam pack up after just one week. She took Chippy on one side and bought him a drink and we all said goodbye. Jed took her luggage to the airport and off she went ~ leaving her address and phone number with Chippy.

Nasty incident in the square in San Antonio tonight. Peter insulted a party of Germans, who took it very well and just laughed at him. Oh the embarrassment. He kept insisting that they (the Germans) should be gassed, their skin made into handbags and lamp shades, &c. Quite terrible. Dave G was furious. Sue went off home in disgust.



Saturday July 15, 1978

St. Swithun's Day. It didn't rain in Ibiza. In fact, from the look of things I don't think it has rained here for years. Never before have I suffered so much from the heat. Even Dave G, who is terribly susceptible to the sun, is in a better state than me.

Have I mentioned that topless bathers are everywhere this year? A few dropped their bikini tops last year but this year it's easier to count the ladies with tops on rather than off. Sue, British to the end, absolutely refused to discard any essential items of clothing, and says she's proud of the fact she isn't a sheep. However, some of the females are ghastly and would look much better covered up. Chippy is very frustrated because he hasn't managed to get his end away with abybody. He says he's been out~classed by the jet~setters. Anyone with such a low opinion of themselves, and with such a defeatist attitude, doesn't deserve to get anywhere.


Friday July 14, 1978

I had very little sleep. My shoulders are greeny yellow, and pouring with guck. My first action today was to consult Dr Chippy. He came to my room, clad only in his underpants, and carrying a tube of magic, white powder, a series of needles and anti-septic cream. I almost fainted. He burst my remaining blisters and then we made our way to the bar to get properly anaesthetised.

Yesterday "Doctor" Chippy was the hero of the hour on the beach when he put a dislocated shoulder back into position following a 'tug~of~war' accident on the beach. He was immediately acclaimed as the "Beach Party Doctor" and Pam, for one, looked at him with doe~eyed wonderment and affection assuring his chances with her this night.

Why is it that women fall for medical men? Even men like Chippy who only look after mental patients?

I met Jacq a year ago today in the El Capone Bar, or was it the Pavement?