Sunday October 31, 1976

20th after Trinity. Wake up at about 7.30am feeling really evil, and don't put it down to the fact that it's All Hallows Eve either. Tony and Andrew are flat out in deep slumberland and I laugh at the sounds coming from upstairs where Stuart is having it off with the hostess. The expression on his face last night - or perhaps I should say early this morning, was one I shall never forget. Feel lousy. Stuart and his common-law niece emerge at 8.30 and we all have cups of tea before clearing off at 9 o'clock down the M62. The others seem to be quite fit really. Tony is even playing football this morning. From where does this super-human energy come? Home and back in bed for 10.30am. Sleep for over two hours and get up for lunch feeling much better. However, I'm not going to say 'never again' like lots of boring drinkers tend to do. I know damned well that next week I'll be repeating this episode.

Mum and I go down to No 69 where John is laying his drive and Maria is washing shirts and nappies and things. Her washing machine is knackered and it's only the same age as baby JPH. My nephew is somewhat larger than when I last encountered him. He really is perfect. I attempted to feed him with his milk but he ended up flat on his back between my knees. Poor little Devil. Sue & Pete are here for tea. Mum and I leave at 5.30 and I watch a 'Miss Marple' film on the BBC. Tony comes at 7 o'clock just after Julie Grunwell and a friend arrive. Haven't seen her for six or seven years. Tony and I go to Bradford and then the Fox & Hounds, Hare & Hounds and Black Bull. Denise comes into the Black Bull and so we make a hasty escape. Tony is depressed by the sighting and after a drink at the Drop Inn we come home for coffee.

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Saturday October 30, 1976

Up late. The phone is ringing. It's Tony. He comes here at 2.30 and the two of us go to Ilkley. Stuart and Andrew are readying themselves for tonight's onslaught. We all drive over to Bradford where Stuart purchases a pair of trousers and then it's off on our way to Manchester down the M62. Stop at one of those revolting service stations on the way and pay £18.50 for a sausage roll, cup of tea and a piss. Disgusting isn't it? Get to Manchester by 7 o'clock - it's a farce in a pub car-park when Andrew strips off to change his trousers publicly just when a bus is passing. Hilarity. Start drinking at 7.40pm. Until 10 o'clock we go between two pubs, one of which is full of homosexuals dressed in polythene bags. The bar staff look like something from an episode of 'Star Trek'. To the party and spend most of the night with a girl called Gill, who dumps me at the very end to return to her fiancee, who was also, unbeknown to me, at the party. God I could have had my head kicked in! We had a very romantic time. She had a wonderful beaming smile. Just think, I'll never see her again. Stuart goes off to bed with the hostess of the party and Tony, Andrew and I get very pissed. We end up in our underwear singing along to Leo Sayer, devouring cheese on toast at the same time. God only knows at what hour the revelries fell through, but it must have been 4 or 5am.

Link to Mr Sayer's 'You Make Me Feel Like Dancin'

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Tuesday October 5, 1976

Karen Gadsby, 17. MM, 21. Another filthy, wet day. Get soaked at lunchtime in Leeds buying a Teddy Bear for John Philip Hugh at Schofield's. It's only three days since I purchased a bloody umberella [£3.80]. But did I have it with me?

Home at 5.15. Spill a cup of white-hot coffee over myself after a delectable evening meal and all they can worry about is whether I've stained the settee or not. As it happens, it was unmarked by the volcanic deluge.

With Tony, Stuart, Andrew and Simon [I think he's Simon anyway] to the Odeon in Leeds to see 'The Omen' with Gregory Peck and Lee Remick. Very good. A clever ending to it too. Go see it if you get the chance. [No doubt you've all watched it on TV recently and said unto one another: 'What a load of crap, indeed'.]

Home at 11. Mum and Dad, Lynn and Dave have been to see John, Maria & Co at Ridgeway. Maria came out of hospital today.

The Conservative party's annual tea party has begun at Brighton. Margaret Hilda Thatcher is threatening to dance in the streets if she's elected to the premiership at the next general election fiasco. Oh God.

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