Sunday April 16, 1978

3rd Sunday after Easter

I slept from 12 midnight until 12 noon. A splash about in the bath and coffee restored me to normal health. Jacq came at 1pm and Sue, Pete, Jacq and I decided to go to Bradford (ABC Cinema) to see 'Saturday Night Fever' starring John Travolta.

A hot, sunny day in Bradford and by 2:30 we were queueing six deep around the cinema. Susan didn't help by saying things like: "I thought you said it would be quiet on an afternoon, Michael?" The film, I thought, was excellent. Travolta is a brilliant mover on the dance floor and of course the Bee Gees are the tops. Sue and Pete liked it. Jacq, mustering up all her creative powers, said the film is "crap".



Back at home we were joined by John, Maria and JPH ~ Maria being at the wheel of the MG ~ the blue smoke and flying mud heralded her arrival at Pine Tops. JPH looked slightly silly with an awful haircut, but he ran around happily enquiring after the whereabouts of his grandparents. He played with an old balloon ~ still inflated since Christmas. They left after an hour to return to Molly's where they are 'looking after Jimmy' while his parents are away.

By now we were close to starvation. Quite understandable really because none of us had eaten since yesterday evening. So off we went to Addingham for fish and chips (after a quick drink at the Commercial) and then to the Devonshire Arms (Bolton Abbey) where Peter saw his boss with a woman from his office. I suggested that Peter could make quite a bit of cash out of the embarrassed guy if he played his cards right.

From the Devonshire Arms it was a ritual trail to the Shoulder of Mutton for one final drink. Jacq was taken back to Leeds by Peter and on our arrival home we found Mum and Dad entertaining Edith and Ernest back from their visit to Morecambe.

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Sunday September 4, 1977

13th after Trinity. Yes, Naomi and I put up a Christmas tree and decorated it with newspaper. Oh what a state it was in this morning. I was actually beginning to believe that the festive season was upon us.

with Martyn at Bolton Abbey.

Tony and Martyn came at about 3. I wasn't all that talkative. Wendy, Georgina and G's sister (I've forgotten her bloody name) joined us in Ilkley and we motored to Bolton Abbey for the remaining portion of the afternoon. We walked by the river taking the occasional silly photograph and then went for a riotous cup of tea and a bun at the Bolton Abbey Cafe. My ginger cake was a collector's piece - mid 18th century, I think..

We returned to the flat for cheese on toast and then shot off to the Craven Heifer for a hectic, hot, and horribly sticky night out. It was like the 1975 London Tube Disaster all over again - only worse. We were crammed in a corner away from the music and the dirty jokes. By now I was decidedly dull-witted and uncommunicative. Home at midnight. Everyone nicely tucked up in bed except Mummy and Daddy who are visiting Uncle Harry in Cumbria (since Saturday noon) and I do the same. Retire that is.

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Saturday March 26, 1977

Tony comes up at 1am with the Dave B birthday photos and those from last weekend. Really good.

walking in the rain in Menston.

Rang Judith and she rekindled the age old idea of picnicing at Bolton Abbey. Tony is in agreement. The two of us nip to Bradford and lark around for a bit before returning to Judith's. She's clad in tight jeans, wearing red braces and her hair is in pigtails. Killer.

To Ilkley for supplies. Two bottles of wine, bread and cheese, &c. Joined by Kathryn too, of course. Rain at Bolton Abbey, but the four of us eat, drink and make merry. Watch blue tits sweeping down after our bread crumbs.

Judith is tight jeans and braces.

At 2.45 we pile into the Devonshire Arms. All a little pissed except Kathryn who looks ill. Tony comes over all tired. By 4pm it's just Judith and I remaining - drinking tepid coffee at Bedside Manor. We feel as though we should carry on with the drinking. Is it alcoholism, or just the fact that we're almost 22?

We walked in the rain to Menston to see Fat Carol in her flat near the Hare. My God what squalid quarters. She was romping around in her underwear - her hair standing on end, and a strange girl was in her bed. Judith and I felt very uncomfortable. The whole place stank of vomit and the place is reminisceent of a rat infested cell in the Bastile. Horrible. Judith and I walked to the bus stop with horror etched on our faces.

Tea at 6. In the bath. To the Hare with Peter N in his new Capri. Susan, Lynn, Dave B, Martyn, Ruth, Chris, Peter M, &c.  CB was in but she went off with Chris Blades. Stayed until 11. I feel a bit down. Carole and Fogarty are getting engaged at the end of next month. Silly, young fools. Will it last?

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Wednesday June 23, 1976

Out to Grassington and then onto the Miners' Arms at Glasshouses (surely, Greenhow?) with Chris, Peter M, and Andy Graham. The latter mentioned is indeed a rare sight in public life these days without the ever watchful Linda Smith lurking somehwhere in the shadows.

Peter got terribly drunk and the so-called highlight of the evening was the return journey when Andy seriously attempted to uproot every sign post between Bolton Abbey and Guiseley. Chris had about ten road signs stacked in the back of his van by 1.30am and I found the whole operation ridiculous and not in the least amusing.____________.

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Friday May 23, 1975

Day one of the Open Event at Grassington. At 6.30 John and I go to the Hare in order that I can pick up my jacket which I accidentally left under the juke box on Wednesday. We stay for a few drinks. Peter and Chris come in. They're laden with the precious tent and various other camping odds and ends.

Mum and Dad go to Scotland tomorrow. In the new car too. They haven't been off, quite alone, for any length of time before (not since the famous honeymoon anyway) so it should be quite a fantastic break.

Back to the Camping Trip: Horror of Horrors! John's car broke down near the Devonshire Arms, Bolton Abbey, and we had to dump the car in the pub car park. The four of us piled into Pete's van and we bombed into the Dales, weighed down with tons of camping gear and miscellaneous rubbish.

After to failing to get on a camp site we deposit ourselves in a field, next to the Wharfe, about ten minutes out of Grassington. The tent was erected before 9.30 and we made the pub in Grassington shortly after. Although the pubs close legally at 11pm, the Forester's Arms in Grassington was open to customers at 11.30, which amused John no end, though Peter did seem a little edgy. ________.

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Saturday May 3, 1975

John wakes me at about 11.30 and I feel quite rotten again. Headache and sore throat. On making enquiries I discover that we're all the same in the house. John, in the car, departs in the direction of Horsforth. He's going to Chris's then down to Charlie Brown's for some car tyres or something.

I do most of the housework. (Just thought I'd slip that in, and I'd like to make it quite clear that I'm proud of it. Men who can't do the ordinary household chores are pathetic). Play a few records but feel as though my head is about to explode.Mum and Dad come back from Bradford and they say they feel the same. Mum kept saying that we might have a gas leak or something, but surely if this was the case we'd all be unconscious or dead?

This evening was one of the most nasty, uncomfortable affairs I've ever really experienced. To start with, John went to collect his idol ___ and he was persuaded to call in at the revolting Station 'just for a quick one'. I had a pint of Guinness which ruined my evening because it stuck in the pit of my stomach like three tons of reinforced concrete. After collecting Linda, Carol and Miss Dibb we made our way to the Devonshire Arms near Bolton Abbey - a most hideous tavern, full of old clapped-out idiots in tweed trousers. From then on things went down hill and the gang ended up in Burnsall. I was with Lynn and Dave and noticed the horror on Mr Baker's face at the mileage we were doing. When petrol is 70p a gallon I couldn't agree more with him. Never again.


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Sunday February 2, 1975

Sexagesima. A beautiful morning. Up by 11 o'clock. John astounds me when he says he's not going out tonight. I realise he told Chris last night of this plan, but I put it down to the effects of alcohol and delirium since he paid his £8 deposit.

Dreamed last night that the Duke of Edinburgh was dead and I was the only person in the office to deal with it.

Lynn is, at this very moment, preparing to go to Bolton Abbey with Dave, and I can't help thinking slightly proud of myself. Why is that, you are all asking? Well, you see I commend myself on the fact that my scheming back in September brought these two young lovers together in the first place. Not that I've had anything to do with it since, but I feel full of pride and joy at the sight of them bounding merrily through life's playground. Love is certainly a marvellous thing.

The brilliance of the afternoon sun fades at about 5, and a fog descends upon us. I was almost convinced that Spring was here, but things look quite different now.

See 'The Gospel According to Matthew' an Italian film which drags on for ages. I much preferred 'The Greatest Sory Ever Told' with Max von Sydow. John Wayne didn't even put me off.

Christine rang to see if I was going out. I say no and she says Chris is also staying in. Really unusual for a Sunday night. We discuss the idea of going to Worcester on Feb 22 - a great idea.

Sue is in the Dales with Peter, and Lynn is at Bolton Abbey with Dave. Dad is at work. So John, Mum and I sit before the television. I delve into the bookcase and select another Agatha Christie - 'The Secret of Chimneys'. It's up to her usual brilliant standard. Read and see TV until after 12.

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Tuesday April 24, 1973

The alarm clock sang its merry song at 10 this morning. The sky was overcast but it was dry! My prayers have been answered. Had breafast at 10.30. Mum made John and I some sandwiches and I rang Dave at 11. He said he would meet us at the Station Hotel at 12. The same time as June and Sue B. John and I prepared for the fishing expedition. At 11.30 we set off for Guiseley. We sat on the seat outside the Albion Fisheries.

June and Sue came at 12.03. We all sat together waiting for Dave. Mum and Dad with the girls went passed in the car at the same time that Dave arrived. Bidding farewell to mother and co. we piled into the car and set off for Otley.

To cut a long story short, after driving for 2 hours around the wilds of Wharfedale (with June on my knee) we arrived at Bolton Abbey at 2. We had ice lollies at an old cafe, then walked alongside the river and played tig and made several attempts to push each other into the water - unsuccessful ones. We tried to walk to the Strid, where Dave had not been before, but an old man on a gate said it would cost us 4p each. It seems that the very air we breathe will cost us money before long! To register our protest we crept up a bank and walked to the Strid avoiding those little sentry-box type green huts where OAPs lurk with ticket machines, etc.

Dave accidentally smashed his spectacles in the loo - I can't think how. And poor Sue fell in some filthy mud and had to bathe - fully clothed - in the Wharfe in order to cleanse herself. She looked very self-conscious and uncomfortable. June was delightful, wearing green denims and my bush hat. We picked wild flowers together. The countryside was too perfect. We didn't fish once. No one bothered. At 4.30 we set off regretably for home. June and Sue got out at Grandways. I gave her a letter which I wrote on April 19. She's reading it tonight. Dave brought John and I to Guiseley. I hate leaving June who is becoming very attached to my knees. What a girl she is!

Went to the CW at 7. Busy as a "poor Saturday" which means very good for a Tuesday. Depressing evening and an anti-climax to the day. Came home from the CW at 12.30. Had supper and retired to bed. Toffer paid me £2. So it was a Saturday after all!!

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