Showing posts with label central station. Show all posts
Showing posts with label central station. Show all posts

20131116

Friday October 13, 1978

Friday the Thirteenth. Nothing ghastly befell me. I had a pint of lager in the Central with Sarah at lunchtime. Poor Jilted John sat at the bar swilling gin and weeping on Dave Bruce's shoulder. He's taken Sarah's renunciation of his affections very badly. We drank our drink quickly and left.

This evening John (my prodigal brother) came at 6:30 and I told him he had to come out with us. Jacq got off a bus at 8:30, and the three of us paid a visit to the Drop where Mrs Hanson howled with laughter at Jacq and I. She's still getting over our visit there at the end of August with Trixie, Lynn and Dave. John looked very well. Maria was down at Carole's catching up on four or five weeks gossip.

From the Drop we went to the Fox and Hounds and then the Commercial, where Annie chatted merrily with us, especially John, whom she hasn't seen since he married. Anne, her niece, is coming over from America in November.

From the Commercial we had one at the Regent in Guiseley. We came back to Pine Tops for home~brew. We were all quite pissed up. Bed at 2.

-=-

20131115

Friday September 29, 1978

Out of bed at 6:58am and plunged into a hot bath. Whilst tucking into my hot porridge oats I plugged into the radio news at 7:30 and was astounded to hear that Pope John Paul had died in the night from a heart attack after a reign of only 33 days. It's the shortest pontificate since Pope Stephen in 700 AD, or so. I find this hard to take in. Quite ridiculous that all the cardinals are going to have to crawl back to Rome for another conclave.

I spent most of the day playing with the late Pope's pictures. Chris Bye came into the office cheerfully waving a fiver & laughingly told us that on Aug 26 he'd been into Ladbroke's and placed a bet that the new pope would only live for 33 days. Yeah, right. It would finish it off very nicely now if our own Cardinal Hume was elected pontiff. A good English lad at the Vatican to show these Italians a thing or two.

Mum and Dad went off to Scotland this afternoon to see John and Maria in Stranraer. They took JPH's birthday presents with them and are staying for the festivities and returning on Sunday evening.

Tonight I battled through driving rain to see Jacq in Leeds. We met at 8:30 and went to the Central, where she became quite legless on cider. I intended going on a pub crawl but we enjoyed the loud, pulsating music of the disco in the pub, and we stayed until 10:30. She frowned when I suggested moving on to Len's Bar. She knows Sarah hangs out there on Fridays.

I got the last bus out of town at about 11. Sue and Pete were watching TV. He stayed the night. Young love.

-=-

20131112

Friday August 18, 1978

Full Moon 11:14

Helped Mum with her shopping this morning which was a rare occurrence. In the afternoon I compiled a letter to Delia (in the guise of my solicitor Nunwoman, Leaper & Nunwoman).

Worked this evening at the YP. At 10 I joined Jacq at the Central for half an hour or so. The people in that pub are incredibly revolting and gruesome. Dregs of the earth would be putting it mildly.

Tonight my taxi driver seemed to be very well educated. No, he didn't insist that he's the world's leading authority on snakes, and no, he hadn't witnessed Mau Mau atrocities in Kenya. He made some intelligent remarks about microfilm and the Leeds Intelligencer which surprised me. They really ought to give inquisitive people like him an outlet for their energies in some sort of polytechnic. Doing essays on 'Taxis through the Ages'. How about 'The Influence of the Cab Driver on Charles Darwin and his subsequent theory of relativity'? Or, 'In what way did the gun~boat policy of Lord Palmerston affect the taxi fares in Leeds after 1861'? Or ....... King Louis XVI's Flight to Varenne: Would it have succeeded with Telecabs? Discuss.

-=-

20130619

Thursday June 15, 1978

Linda and Anne's leaving 'do' at the Central from 5:30. I took Jacq. We were quite pissed by 11. People kept approaching me to say things like: "I thought you were the quiet type?" It annoyed me.

Peter Lazenby gave me £10 and ordered me to go on the Blackpool trip. It was a moving scene.

-=-

20130610

Tuesday April 11, 1978

More snow. What's more, the whole house is full of daffodils and my nasal cavity aches and squelches 'neath the strain of it all. Spring is no joy for me. Yellow is such a loud, dazzling colour.

At 12 I left the YP and sought refuge in the library. Poor P.G. Wodehouse and Alexandre Dumas were returned to the shelves virtually unread. I was violently assaulted by the library assistant because I owed 45p in fines. Crikey! Who does she thinks pays for the rotten books in the first place? Harold Robbins, believe it or not, doesn't grow on trees.

I met Jacq at 1pm and we went to the murky, disinfectant-smelling Central. I disabled the juke box when I shovelled 5p pieces into it and it's obviously only programmed to take 10s. But the obliging landlord fiddled around beneath the lid and I ended up getting 6 plays for 10p! Coo! Jacq is fagged out. She was in Thorner yesterday typing and today she's doing the same in 'Leeds 10'. She couldn't be more specific, but I think it's behind the Corn Exchange somewhere.

I told Jacq that 1978 is the year that Michael Rhodes finds fame and fortune in a new job, but I'm not thoroughly convincing. Jacq's known me long enough now to realise what a slow, sluggish worm I am. I took my leave of her at 2 and went to the bank in Guiseley for £50 which I immediately converted into postal orders and posted to Barclaycard.


Postal Order.

At home by 3:45 I heard Denis Healey on the telly presenting his 13th Budget to Parliament. This non-event was recorded for the first time (no pictures). After all the rhetoric I am probably going to receive £1 a week more in my wage packet. Retired at 11.

-=-

20121220

Friday December 23, 1977

_.Roaring drunk all day with consequences nauseating and dire.Please do not read on if you are of a weak or delicate nature. At the YP we sank a bottle of gin before going over to the pub - the Central - and whilst having Christmas drinks in this ancient pub I am sorry to say my mind disintegrated. Everything became blurred and warped. I managed to get a bus at about 3 and at home I fell off a chair several times whilst attempting to stick balloons to the ceiling for my irate Mama.

From home I went with dear Dave L, Sue, Pete N, Chris, Pete M, Steve Hudson and a scattering of Pete N's pals to the Fox. I remember nothing. Evidently I was drinking Tequila and orange.

Junction, Otley.
I am told that Dave left for home at about 10 and we moved on to the Junction in Otley - of all places - where a breach of the Queen's peace occurred and possibly a case of Grievous Bodily Harm. Whilst making my exit from the said tavern I was, allegedly, set upon by one ANTONY KIRK, of Otley, who assaulted me in the face, my nose, mouth, &c. Supposedly I accosted his tart (she is from Otley and so she must be one), but dear Sue and Pete insist that on leaving the pub I did nothing to provoke an onslaught upon my person. The lad just landed one on me for no apparent reason.

My body was borne in great mourning to Peter (Nason's) where my wounds were dressed and a Mass was said. On my arrival home, it is said, Mama went hysterical and I sat drunk, quietly bleeding.

-=-

20101119

Friday May 21, 1976


Meet Denise and Marita in the Central at 12.30. Eileen joins us at 1pm. Have a few drinks and discuss plans for the party. Marita probably won't make it because she's going to MM's at Sheffield.

At 2.15 Denise and I move on to Parker's wine bar and get through a full bottle of white wine in 45 minutes. Talk about our relationships with the opposite sex. ______.

At 5 o'clock we get the train to Guiseley and have a cup of tea with Mum & Dad. At 7 we both go to the Hare & into the steak bar. My steak is too well done, but otherwise it is very good. Through in the bar all the brigade are assembled. Even Tony is in. Denise and I sit with him and we end up singing 'Jerusalem' and 'Onward Christian Soldiers!' Helen joins us too. Chris is in with Carole, John and Maria.

Tony brings me home at 11. We are going to Oakwood Hall on Thursday I think. Feel rather drunk. See 'The Third Man' on TV. Bed after 1am.

-==-

20100617

Wednesday December 24, 1975


Christmas Eve. At 12 o'clock we went over to the Central, which was like the Black Hole of Calcutta. Fighting to get to the bar proved tortuous and we just about died of thirst while queueing. Sarah goes home at 2.30 and Carol J and I leave an hour later after I'd given massive drunken Christmas kisses to all the drunken females spread around the pub. Eileen just about had me on the floor. She was with her younger sister, Christine.

At 4.30 I'm home and feeling dog-tired as I always do after lunchtime boozing. I fall asleep in the bath and climb out at 6.30 to a roast pork sandwich and a selection of pickles and onions.

By 8pm I'm all well again and Carole arrives just as I'm about to set off and collect her from home.

We go to the Hare where everyone is assembled and I sit with Mr & Mrs P for a couple of hours. We leave at 11 after witnessing a scuffle in which Rick Ryder prominently featured.

Dave L reminds me about his party on Boxing Day. Carole, Lynn, Dave, John, Maria, Susan, Peter all come back to Pine Tops for supper and drinks. At midnight we open most of the presents and I'm thrilled to see that Carole's bought me an instamatic camera. We are all up until nearly 3am and the lounge was devastated with Christmas wrapping paper by the time we'd finished. Dave B took Carole home.

-==-

20100414

Thursday July 31, 1975


Pay day. And a party over at the Central in honour of Alan Brooke and Peter Milburn, who are leaving to join Pennine Radio. The EP won't really be the same without them.

At 5.30 we all went across to the upper room of the Central, where Malcolm Barker and Geoff Hemingway are holding court like Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.

A small crowd gathers to pay homage to the two who are leaving us, and Geoff Hemingway makes a brilliant speech. Sarah and I nip downstairs to the bar, and I'm sloshed well before 7 o'clock. Kathleen goes at about 7 and I stand with EP reporters. Sarah is deep in conversation with Angela Barnes and Roy Holland and we have little communication until she drags me, like a wailing schoolboy, to the last bus. I profess my undying love for her, as I always do on these occasions, but I don't think she likes the idea.

-==-

20091221

Thursday February 27, 1975


More ruddy fog all day. I don't mind snow. I can tolerate frost, ice, rain, heatwaves and hurricanes, but I draw the line at fog. A lung congesting white blanket which does nothing but depress all who who into contact with it. Sickening.

We all, other than Kathleen that is, evacuate the library and perch in 'the Black Hole of Calcutta' as Ronnie Wilkinson would say. Bogged down cutting yesterdays EP and todays YP.

Escape to the Central with Eileen again for our Thursday afternoon booze-up. This is becoming quite a regular thing, and I only hope we can manage to keep it up. The trouble is I become so tired after a lunchtime drink. By 3.30 I'm invariably snoring under a desk or in a semi-coma behind a filing cabinet. Out at 4.30 and home by 5.15.

Tomorrow Uncle Harold and the Labour government more or less celebrate their first birthday. I say 'more or less' because the general election was on Feb 28, but the late Mr Heath didn't resign until the middle of August or something. Please do not think that my views about the government have changed in any way. That would be the last thing I'd want. It's just that I've made up my mind that Uncle Harold isn't such a filthy old Bastard after all. In fact, he's quite human really. If he changed to a Tory I'm sure he'd do everyone a favour. Anyway, he pushed the Queen's money through parliament last night, which was good of him.

Let the Bells ring out! Marita just rang. She's coming out with us the weekend after next.

-==-

20091215

Tuesday December 24, 1974

Christmas Eve. YP till 12 before the festivities begin. At 12 I go outside to meet John who is coming into Leeds for the booze-up in the Central Station pub. He comes up to the library and waits while we open our presents and knock back a glass of cinzano bianco.

The Central is packed out - unbelieveable. Sarah, John and I spend most of the time at the bar. Peter Lazenby and few of his 'Roundhead' Sealed Knot friends go almost hysterical when I tell them that Sarah is descended from Bridget, daughter of Oliver Cromwell, and General Henry Ireton. Praise upon praise was lavished upon her. However, they didn't go so far as to buy her a drink. Sarah, John and I left Leeds by bus at about 3 o'clock. The massive crowd in the Central prevented us from being rendered incapable with ales and spirits, but we weren't all that sober. Devour a few layers of chocolates while travelling home.

At home Mum is prepared for Christmas. Have tea - the first meal of the day for me, before going out on the town to the Hare at 8.30. We stay until 11.30 and nobody seems really enchanted with festive cheer. Come home with Lynn and Dave Baker and sit about merry-making until the early hours.

-==-

Sunday March 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn British Summer Time begins 3rd Sunday in Lent Bacon sandwiches and the Sunday Telegraph. Fuss about the Queen's visit to ...