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Thursday June 8, 1978

Pay day. I gave Mama £25 for the money that would usually be extracted from my holiday pay, which I need to take with me abroad. This leaves me with a mere pittance with which to survive the ensuing week.

The start of this weekly slide towards Hell rolled up tonight in the shape of Mr Peter Nason, who took me off to the Shoulder where we were joined by Chippy, Gus and Dave Wainwright. I find the company of these young men refreshing to say the least. So lively, crude, buoyant and vulgar. What is it that festers the brain of young men on or or around their 21st birthdays?

At 9:30 we moved on to the social club at the asylum (Highroyds Hospital) where we were joined by Sue and Janet Simon. Peter immediately flew off the handle at Sue's intrusion on this, his Thursday night off. I was annoyed at Peter's childish (pre 21 year of age) show of buffoonery. What is the point in going out with a girl for six nights each week, a girl, I might add, whom you intend marrying, and then just because it's Thursday and you accidentally meet you hurtle abuse and be generally rude in her direction? I see no sense in this at all. In fact it's more Sue's fault for tolerating such behaviour.

The girls left at 11 leaving us unable to decide which young people on the dance floor where club members, members of the public or highly dangerous top security patients. It proved an impossible task.

On to Oakwood Hall. I was pissed. Enjoyed it there. Bumped into a girl who is engaged and bought a Britvic pineapple and sat with my arms around her until 2am. Home with Gus. Cut my finger opening a tin. Infuriating.

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Wednesday June 7, 1978

Her Majesty the Queen celebrated her (Silver) Jubilee one year ago today. Our poor, overworked monarch has a nasty duty ahead of her next week. She has to entertain the 'unspellable' president of Romania at the palace for three or four tortuous days and I don't think HM will be looking forward with an pleasure to this. Wasn't HM's great-aunt Helen, a princess of Edinburgh, and granddaughter of Queen Victoria, Queen of Romania? Helen wed into that shaky Balkan monarchy which fell in 1947. However, if the said president's visit helps Mr Callagas sell a couple of verticle take-off planes to the commies it will all have been worthwhile.

Anyway, Sarah finally got away today. Can you believe that her grandmother stood on a red table in the garden in Horsforth waving franticly as Sarah and Delia flew off from Yeadon? Such a pleasant, Goon-like sight that must have been.

The YP is hell without my whistling knee-grasping companion. Kathleen ought to retire _____________.

Tuesday June 6, 1978

Sarah goes off to Palma with Delia tomorrow, and to mark the occasion we had a wild lunchtime together. We bought sandwiches and went to Park Square and noshed and swilled tomato soup in the light drizzle. Yes folks, summer is over.

From Park Sq we went to Len's Bar and downed one, tiny drink and I bid her a fond 'bon voyage'. She and Delia are having a party on June 18 and so the ritual 'Father's Day' spectacular trip to Blackpool will be abandoned. The experience would be too great anyway, and with a holiday looming it would be sheer, unadulterated financial folly. Besides, the parties at Ivory Towers are equally entertaining.

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Monday June 5, 1978

New Moon 20:01

Jacq has been told by some of the inmates (at the YWCA) that the haggis is a four-legged rabbit-like creature that inhabits the Scottish Highlands. What a cruel and nasty leg pull to do to a fellow dosser, or 'down and out', or whatever they think they are at the YWCA.

Jacq has set herself the goal of making my greatness known to the general public. Discussing me with John Mac on Saturday they decided I'd be a decent sort of author. Er ...
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