Showing posts with label arthur pearce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label arthur pearce. Show all posts

20170302

Tuesday April 3, 1979

_. Auntie Hilda phoned today to say Karen and Steve are going out babysitting on Saturday and so we cannot have the Grand Gadsby-Rhodes reunion this time. Thwarted again. She told Mum that cousin Derek's wife, Jennifer, is expecting her second baby in November. Karen phoned at 7:30 to say we can all have the great gathering on April 14, which is the day before Easter. I readily agree, and communicate this news to Sue. Mum and Dad with Hilda and Tony are probably going to stay with Ruby and Arthur for Easter, and so the house at Pudsey will be void of parents and eligible for an orgy. Alison is also coming for Easter, and so she'll be included in the party. Gosh, I can hardly wait.

At about 8:30 in walked John and Sheila, from Lanzarote, with Valerie and her boyfriend Graham, a law student at Nottingham Polytechnic. It was such a surprise because we haven't seen them since Christmas, 1977, and following the boycotting of Lynn's wedding, I thought we'd seen the last of them.

Uncle John is just the same self-assured, suave businessman. He never has a penny but is always on the verge of making a fortune. The gold mine is always just around the corner.  At 11pm they run Valerie and Graham to Harrogate, and then come back to stay the night with us. We discussed Lanzarote and our wayward, insane family. From Blackpool to Selby and from the Canary Isles to Stranraer we are making our mark on the world.

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20100414

Saturday July 26, 1975



I didn't really have enough space yesterday to go into any more detail about 'George's' party. At one stage 'George' and I got carried away and we fell on the band, but all in all we returned without any injury. After the meal we came back to the Macdonald's for a few more drinks - champagne and cigars - and we staggered off home, or perhaps I should say we drove off home, and staggered up to bed.

Six or seven hours later we were out of bed and waving bye bye to Mum and Dad, who are going down to Ruby and Arthur's in Norfolk. Mum wasn't too pleased about me having a party tonight but Lynn used her charm and convinced her that all will be well. However, I was feeling terrible. A hot bath, which normally clears hangovers for me, didn't do so, and I thought the end had come.

'George' and Carole came round at 11am and I insisted on playing Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto and lying quite still on the settee. Carole isn't my type at all really and I don't see how we've managed to keep up the pretence for so long. She leaves at 12 and I won't see her until the end of August. Dave B managed to deflate her umberella (see foot of July 23) and I think it could be symbolic of our relationship.

The party: all went to the Hare at 8. Me in new trousers. Stayed there until about 10 o'clock. Stand with Dave L and Christine B all night. Dave is still my best pal after all these years and it's quite incredible how well we get on. The three of us come back to Pine Tops before the mob and we make a start on the drinks. All the usual come, other than Miss Carol Smith, and the only strangers were a few Durham University students who came with Ray. MM and Marita came looking like a pair of blacks and were quite jolly. Dave passed out upstairs just after 12, and the next to go was Lynn, who was violently sick, &c. Poor Christine drank vodka until it spewed out of her ears and she did nothing but cry. I took her for a walk at about 2am up on the common, and she lost her ear-rings. That didn't help matters, and it beats me how she always manages to lose expensive jewelry when she's drunk. The Braithwaite collection must have dwindled somewhat since Christine started drinking.

Al Dixon's brother, Graham, was also having a party, and Dave B, Martyn Cole, Al, and me went up for half an hour. It was completely dead and useless. On our return home I bedded down in the dining room next to a snoring Christine B, who looked like (in Dave L's words) a Japanese Mud Wrestler.

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20100318

Thursday March 20, 1975

A good day really. Frantic in the morning but at least it all passed quickly. Pay day yet again, and it coincides quite conveniently with my Barclaycard repayments. £13 they want this time.

Home on the 4.30 bus where I bump into Martin Vere-Bujnowski, who is at Nottingham Polytechnic. Haven't seen him since Christmas, and apparently he's remained faithful to the Emmotts after all these years, and I suppose he's forgotten that other places of public refreshment exist.

'Private Eye' is funny this week with some good tales of the wedding of Lord and Lady Lichfield. The Queen is always referred to as 'Brenda' which is potty really. The Duke of Edinburgh is 'Keith'. Say no more.

Home to hear from Lynn that Mum won £50 on the Premium Bonds today. Bloody marvellous it really is, and about two years to the day since she last won £50. God only knows what she'll do with it all. Probably invest it. She keeps saying it will not affect her lifestyle in any way, and she doesn't intend buying a mink coat or Rolls-Royce. It's back to work tomorrow at her £30 a week office job - no life of luxury for her. No indeed.

The 17th birthday of Mr Peter Nason. Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave are trotting off for a meal somewhere, and it certainly looks like a champagne all round occasion. I never did anything like this when I was his age. A sign of the times.

Mum had a letter from Ruby and Arthur today. They say they had a letter from Uncle Tony the other week who told them they don't see us anymore due to a squabble over a 'holiday'. A load of balderdash.

After the others had gone to dine Mum and Papa took John and I to the Commercial where we had a few celebratory drinks. Home at 11 for a sherry session with Pete, Sue, Lynn and Dave. Bed at about 12.30.

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Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...