Monday January 12, 1976

Not a spectacular day at all really. I ring Denny about the San Antonio holiday and she gets us in, provisionally, at the Pacific Hotel. However, when I contact Chris he tells me he is now unable to get July 3-17 for his summer holidays and says he'll ring me tonight. The boy's a failure.

At lunchtime I ring West Yorkshire bus service to make enquiries about the bus service from Kirby Malzeard to Leeds. It isn't as bad as all that and I'm cheered up somewhat by the timetable. Carole rings shortly afterwards and is full of cold. She tells me that she wept herself unconscious in bed last night over the incidents of the weekend and asks me whether I've forgiven her for acting ridiculously. I assure her that I still want to go out with her and arrange to see her at Maria's tonight. I don't think Mrs Mac will like visitors running all over the house at a time like this but Carole insists I go.

Home for tea at 5.45. Sue tells me that Agatha Christie died today. I don't hear anything about this on the news however, and no doubt I will have to wait for the morning papers to announce this sombre news. She was a brilliant writer, and I will always look upon her books with reverence and respect.

Go to Maria's at 8.30 and sit feeling quite ill. A sudden cold seems to have descended upon me. Maria is in high spirits and has taken her grandfather's death very philosophically. Her attitude is that he's in a better place now and he's the last person we should worry about.

John brings me home at 11pm. I've been sat with Carole all night. We didn't say much, but I suppose the trauma of the weekend is very much on our minds.

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Wednesday February 5, 1975

Horrid day. Gordon Pickles, a reporter on the EP, was killed in a road accident in the early hours of the morning. I didn't know him really well, but it's nauseating to think I was laughing and joking with him on Monday about something in 'Private Eye'. Here today, gone tomorrow, or is it more appropriate to say 'here yesterday, gone today?'

To the Hare & Hounds with John, No one other than Andy arrives, but a pleasant evening is had. John and Andy certainy know a nice bunch of women, and I wonder what exactly I've been doing all these weeks while they've been pulling in the talent.

A silly old hag on 'Nationwide' tonight remarked that the late Mr Heath is 'a second Churchill' in his oratory abilities. She couldn't possibly be referring to the great Sir Winston, so I think she means either Baroness Spencer-Churchill ( a right little raver when she's roused) or her up and coming grandson, Mr Winston Churchill. God only knows where all this Tory party eye-wash will lead us.
Sit in bed with Agatha again. Finish 'The Mystery of Chimneys' - really entertaining. Pass out into a deep sleep at about 1 o'clock.

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Monday February 3, 1975

Busy day at the YP. Attempt to do a few letters in the afternoon but don't get through more than a handful. Sit in front of the television all night after having a bath. See 'The Likely Lads' - one of the funniest programmes around at the moment. Then sit in bed with Agatha Christie until nearly 1.0am.

Lynn and Dave went to Tiffany's in Leeds with Andy and his so-called cousin 'Judith'.________.

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Saturday February 1, 1975

Sleep until lunch at 12. Leap into the bath in order to revive myself, but even after this experience I don't really feel much better. All that sleep didn't seem to do any good.

See a film on the BBC and then go play 'Ruslan and Ludmilla' by Glinka and the prelude to Act III of Lohengrin by Mr Wagner. Yes, we aren't all unsophisticated Donny Osmond fans up here you know. The classics are as welcome here as they are in Covent Garden, and in some cases even more so.

My first free Saturday in years. Yes, I have the occasional one off, but it's much more pleasant to know that it's a permanent thing.

The papers are full of Edward Heath and Mrs Thatcher. I must admit, at first I abhored the idea of woman Tory leader, but these past few days have heralded a change. Good luck to her anyway. We certainly having nothing to lose. She can't make a worse mess of it than Heath did, and even if she does we'll forgive her because she's only a silly, dumb blond.

To the Hare & Hounds for a couple of drinks before moving on to a pub in Bingley, one of Andy's hang outs. The highlight of the evening was when Dave rang me up at 7 and said he was coming out. I'd no idea he was home this weekend. When the pubs shut John, Dave and I go to the new take-away in Guiseley. Food is horrible and what's more _______walked past on the arm of her boyfriend. ____ignored her completely.
Home in time to see a good Bette Davis film. Laughed all the way through. Sit in Lynn's bedroom until the early hours reading Agatha Christie.

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Wednesday February 6, 1974

Queen Anne born, 1665. Death of Charles II, 1685. Death of George VI, 1952.

Although no snow fell overnight, last night's quota is still very evident. The whole lane looks like a picture from a traditional Christmas card. Leave for work at 8. Slide down the lane, up to my ankles in crisp snow.

Speculation about a possible General Election is the main topic of both YP and EP today. I don't know what to think. One thing's for sure, the so-called national strike will be halted if the marxist TUC leaders think that 'Darling Harold' (Wilson) will win the election. All my sympathy goes to Mr Heath. After all, he did his best. It would certainly be a joyous day to have the old boy once again at the helm, as it were, but the possibilities do seem remote. After all, no matter how good a government has been they are seldom returned for a second time. We'll have to wait and see what happens.

Lynn is currently shut away in her room with a chill or something. She looks terribly pale. However, in general, the health of the family is quite remarkable. I am the only one who has ever really missed a lot of time from school - but that was many years ago. John is certainly the healthy one of the clan. To be honest, I cannot remember a day when he's missed time from school, and in 2 years the boy's never missed one day of work.

Sit in bed browsing through old Agatha Christie novels which are still good the second time around.

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