Friday November 18, 1977

Margaret Phillips phoned me this morning to say Carole had yet another milogram (if that's how it's spelt)  yesterday evening and that they have discovered something in the pit of her neck which means she'll be having more treatment next week. However, her main reason for phoning was to let me know that Mr Phillips plans to be off work all week next week so enabling both of them to be be in attendance at the hospital on afternoons, and therefor my presence at the hospital will not be required. I wouldn't wish to meet John Phillips anyway. Poor kid Carole. It is of course her 20th birthday on Sunday. I posted her a birthday card this afternoon.

Although I'm just about broke I decided to go out tonight and not to leave the homestead tomorrow. Chris collected me at 9 and we went to the Fox where we were joined by Sue and Pete and Pete M. Denise was there, being entertained by Dave Rogers, and her sister Lorraine and brother-in-law, Mick. Tony and Martyn have gone to Batley Variety Club. To be honest I don't like these variety places. In fact I'd prefer to be held hostage by Baader-Meinhof terrorists for three months than be subject to the horrors of a pissed, aged and declining 'star'. You know the sort I mean, don't you? Des O'Connor, Johnny Hackett and such like.

Oakwood Hall.

From the Fox we went to the Hare at Heaton where Wendy calls everyone 'Kenneth' - this especially suits Peter Mather. Pete met Sue (of Smith's fame), and took me to Oakwood Hall. Any normal persons would feel like a tulip, or a gooseberry, or whatever people who get in the way of young lovers are termed. I didn't feel remotely like a rhododendron. I became quite pissed up. Most of my adventures at this very exclusive club are vague and hazy, and no dialogue of the event remains in my memory at all. Pete M and his Sue came back at 2:30 for coffee and I fell asleep on the rug at 4. Waking to find them gone at 8am.

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Thursday March 10, 1977

Half dead all day after the excesses of last night. Buggered is the word.

News: Gough Whitlam said some ill mannered things about the Queen at a banquet in her honour. What can we expect from the Aussies? Culture? Manners? Prince Edward is a teenager. President Carter has been making strange phone calls to lots of weird people in America.

To Batley Variety Club with Tony and Martyn. Madeline Bell sang. Absolutely brilliant. Why she hasn't been more of a success I will never know. Blue Mink, the group with whom she was the singer, were good in their day but she's a star in her own right. She has a good sense of humour too. I only spent 60p or so. Yes, it was one of my first attempts to 'pull in' as Denis Healey would say.

Tony says I've become subdued over the past couple of weeks. Why? He tells me that Carole and Fogarty are not contemplating an engagement. _____propaganda machine must be failing, eh? It's Tony's birthday next Wednesday and he's taking Martyn and Carole to Batley. I'd like to go but with £3 left it's impossible. Besides, with Miss P attending I'd only spoil things.

Thank God no work tomorrow. I feel as though I've been slaving away non stop for weeks on end. Should I perhaps change my job? I do need the cash desperately  but I'd miss the mob at the YP and the dear old news cuttings.

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Tuesday March 1, 1977

St David's Day. I do hope my Welsh readers have their flags flying today. It was a tiresome day at the YP keeping the conversation away from the subject of Martha Reeves and the Vandellas and Batley Variety Club. Somehow I think Carol J must suspect something because she didn't once mention the subject of tickets to Ursula.

Delia rang at 2.30 to say she is making her TV debut today at 3.45 on YTV (re her flowering arranging genius). She added that she'd just had four of five gin and tonics in the YTV bar and was tipsy. Carol, Sarah and I gathered round the office TV at the pre-arranged time and sure enough Delia emerged onto the 12inch square set in glorious black and white. She was marvellous - her usual hilarious self. I really must get an autograph or signed photo.

Home at 5.30pm for chicken, &c. See in the Daily Mirror - if such a newspaper is to be believed -that Davina Sheffield has taken in a lodger at her London home. Today is her 26th birthday and it may well mark the decline of her liaison with the Prince of Wales. Who knows? Nothing more of vast importance going on in the big, wide world.

Martha Reeves & the Vandellas ...

I am afraid that the month of March is going to be a month of costly entertainment. Numerous birthdays, and an unseemly batch of orgies coming up. How am I going to last until April?

Leave for Batley at 8.30 with Tony & Martyn. Well, what can I say about Batley (Variety Club)? The seats were revoltingly uncomfortable. Either designed by a retarded chimpanzee or Sir Basil Spence. The heat was unbearable and the drinks ridiculously priced. Martha Reeves, though quite good, didn't emerge onto the floor until after 11, and she'd gone by 12. I may have made it sound a depressing night, but it wasn't. Quite good for a Tuesday.





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Monday February 28, 1977

Forgive me keeping you waiting but I mislaid my old pen and have just discovered it tucked under one of the cushions on a chair in the lounge. The last day of February. A revolting month and can't wait to see the back of it.

Martyn told me a good joke.A young man, Jim, is in the pub with Dilys, who lives in her own flat free from parental control. Jim enquires: "How about me coming back to yours for the night?" Dilys replies: "Sorry, but no. You see I'm on my menstrual cycle". "Oh" exclaimed Jim, "that's no bother. I can follow you on my Honda 50."

No Kathleen at the YP today. We chat about the possibility of an evening at Batley Variety Club tomorrow. Ursula has managed to get hold of eight free tickets and I claim three of them for Tony, Martyn and self.

Tony and Martyn come here at 9. After they'd left Lynn remarked how well they seem to get on considering the age difference. Tony is 30 next month and Martyn is only 18. Age is something I never consider.

Miss Phillips range me this morning just to see what I'm getting up to. It must be three weeks since we've spoken. Poor Carole. She should never have met me. I must be a lunatic.

Sir Ian and Lady Caroline Gilmour.

See a Clint Eastwood film and watch Sir Ian Gilmour moan on and on about defence cuts on a boring current affairs programme. Gilmour is opposition defence spokesman and married to a daughter of the Duke of Buccleuch. A regular little alcoholic encyclopaedia, aren't I?






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