Sunday January 26, 1975

Septuagesima. Feel really rotten all day. The top of my head feels like it's about to explode, spraying my brains from here to Mars. I really wish I hadn't devoured all that drink in such speedy circumstances. Dave Slater is to blame - he must have money to burn.

John and I walk into Guiseley to look at a clapped out, old VW which he thought he'd buy. The look of it makes him decide not to bother. Quite a little wreck it was. Home for lunch feeling a bit better, but my head is still fuzzy.

See in the Sunday Express that Mark Phillips won't accept a title. How do they know? I'm sure that Buckingham Palace haven't informed Mr Burnett that Capt Phillips will not receive a title, and realise that the article is purely the brain-child of a clapped out old dear with fond memories of Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon. Times have changed since 1961.

Chris comes at 3.30 to look through some holiday brochures, but to my horror Lynn informs me that Dave took them with him when he went home last night. Chris isn't bothered and we sit watching an episode of 'The World At War' which seems to have been going on since Douglas-Home was in no.10. The programme that is, not the war. That ended in 1918.

John, Chris, Christine, Carol Smith, Lynn and Dave and self go to the cinema this evening. A clapped out old horror film - so boring. Back home to go through more brochures and Chris leaves with a list with which to do battle with tomorrow. Determined to go abroad no matter what the cost this year.

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Saturday January 25, 1975

A filthy day. Hail, rain, blizzards, and nasty snow storms. Lynn and I walk down the lane under the same little umberella - perishing.

Kathleen on morning off. Just Sarah, Eileen and myself in. Me all day unfortunately. Compile a letter to Christine in the afternoon, that is in between doing the EP and YP filing. Mum rings to say that Dad & John are coming to Leeds, and so I get a lift home with them at 4 o'clock.

Have nice lamb for tea. Sit upstairs with 'Edward VII' fascinating it is too. Feel quite lost and frustrated when I finish it. Have to wait until the Spring for book 2, which deals with Edward's life as King-Emperor.

To Wikis with John, Christine B and Chris, Miss Dibb and Andy, not forgetting Carol. I danced with Miss Dibb for most of the night, who moves quite nicely on the dance floor. Bump into Dave Slater in the gents and he buys me a rum and orange, a Bacardi and coke and a Southern Comfort. Naturally, I feel very drunk by 2am. Arriving home I smash a bottle of milk whilst passing through the kitchen. Sat in the toilet reading - attempting to sober myself up and eventually get into bed at some unearthly hour.

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Friday October 11, 1974

Back at the YP as usual. Surprised that Harold (Wilson) will not be seeing the Queen, who is still at Balmoral, to accept her invitation to form a government. But really, I suppose he has been Prime Minister throughout, and it would have only been necessary for him to see the Queen had he been defeated. HM must have been quite confident of a Labour victory because no plans were laid, or any attempt made, for her to return to London.

Go to Otley at 8, and meet Lynne (Mather) at half past. Acutely cold evening and we go into the pub close to the Victoria Memorial Clock. Stay till 10.30. Lynne is a very nice girl, though she reminds of June in many ways, & doesn't like going out in a crowd, which is unfortunate really. At 11, after seeing her safely onto a bus, I go to Wikis, where all the mob except Chris and Phyllis Whitethighs are assembled. Even Laura and Philip Cartwright. Get quite fresh.

See Sarah whos says her hair-do cost her £8 at Vidal Sassoons in Leeds! Bloody madness. John and Carol bump into Dave Slater and he proceeds to buy bottles of champagne and Bacardi, &c. Naturally, John and Carol become quite intoxicated. Dave Slater was already pissed up to the eye balls. We decide to come back to Pine Tops, and Dave drives me in the Bentley - a memorable journey to be sure. Sit till after 3.30.

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Tuesday April 16, 1974

Mum wakes me at 7. My first day back at the YP. I feel weak and ill after last night and vow never to drink gin again. I have a coffee and leave Uncle H asleep in the lounge, not venturing in to see him because it cannot be a very pretty sight. At the office I find a letter on my desk: "Dear Michael, I have some rather depressing news for you. David is leaving the night staff this Sunday (last Sunday for you), so you will have to do a night duty when Ray has his night off; don't panic. I will try to work a late shift with you and stay until about 10pm so it shouldn't be too bad. I've arranged your extra payment and will sort out transport when I get in on Wednesday. It's all a bit sudden and came as quite a shock for all of us. We''ll have a talk about it when I come in. Hope you had a lovely holiday!! Kathleen." My eyes lit up when I saw the sentence about extra payment. Anyway, I quite look forward to getting away from horrid, little Janice Williams. My new driving licence came today and at least I can drive round Aireborough legally again. John took a day off, regardless of what Dave Slater wanted him to work and I've told him he does right. Why should he have only one day off at Easter when all other civilized beings on earth have 2? At 8 I have a hot shower, then see the news on tv and a documentary on Baron Philippe de Rothschild, the French wine producer. Come to bed at 11 and read the Bruce-Lockhart diaries. -==-