I started to keep a journal in January, 1973, when I was 17 years old ~ and compiled it as if it was written for a future grandchild.
Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
Friday October 27, 1978
My day off free from the drudgery of the YP. I was eating kippers for breakfast when Jacq arrived. My head was throbbing and I could think of nothing worse than having to trail to Haworth for this long promised days outing. The delights of Bronte land are not well placed on the bus routes and all I can put it down to is that perhaps the West Yorkshire Passenger Transport Executive is not impressed by the likes of 'Vilette' and 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'.
We arrived there at 12 and went straight to the Black Bull. I was in no mood for boozing. The Black Bull was, of course, often frequented by Branston Bronte, whose sole claim to fame was his invention of Branston chutney.
We pondered as to whether a pissed Charlotte Bronte staggered across this same old stone floor back in the 1850s. At 2:30 we swapped to the King's Arms and then took the air on Haworth Moor, which neither of us found impressive. Ugly in fact. What startled me was the sunshine as it always seems to piss down in Haworth.
At tea time we journeyed home and then went to Salvo's in Headingley for seafood pizzas. Shear greed really because neither of us were hungry. At about 9 we moved on to the Central, for the loud, pulsating disco. John Travolta imitators were gyrating everywhere. We both felt quite sick, bloated and uncomfortable. Drank rum and orange. Home at 11 on a large, red bus.