Thursday December 8, 1977

The snow disappears. Feel much better. I have tired of GBS's plays and I am 'glued' to a romantic novel about John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford. Not my usual style of reading but it's excellent.

Master Phillips is to be christened Peter Mark Andrew by Dr Coggan at Buckingham Palace on Dec 22. The Queen's grandson called Pete! I suppose they've named him after Mark's Dad, Maj Phillips. Andrew is for the baby's uncle of course. Mark is self explanatory.

Carole phoned. They are letting her out tomorrow. David G phoned. Why don't I go over on Saturday, he asks? Why not indeed. _________. For a couple of quid who can argue with the lad? Blimey, Stockport one week, Muswell Hill the next. I'm the nearest thing to a peasant jet-setter. Dave says Glenn is back from his Miami sojourn.

I'm going to Leeds tomorrow to collect my pittance and purchase five or six 'Chrisy' presents.

-=-

Wednesday July 13, 1977

Boat trip: Martyn, Mig, Chris, Dave, Peter and John.

Went on a foul boat-trip which cost 5,700,000 pesetas. My camera broke and I transferred my film into Glenn's appliance. Can't win 'em all, eh?

Tuesday July 12, 1977

Glen: picked on.

Bank Holiday in Ireland. Much the same as last night. On the beach all day and in a bar all night. Prince Charles is a complete idiot. Not the real Prince Charles of course - I'm referring to John Grady, Esq.

Glenn is very quiet, but Peter and Martyn do tend to pick on him. Cruel they are. Glen doesn't seem to want to 'fight' back.











-=-

Sunday June 5, 1977

Trinity Sunday. Yes, collapsed at about 6.15am. The lounge was the site of this pathetic breakdown. Slept until elevenish. Never have I felt so miserable in my whole life when I eventually surfaced. Dark glasses were immediately salvaged from the wreckage that was once Pine Tops and breakfast was taken in horrific circumstances. The other participants, Dave, Glen, Martyn and the ladies Lynn & Sue all seemed to be calm and free from pain.

Commercial at Esholt

To the Commercial at noon. Yet more lager was consumed by Martyn and myself. Dave G had one miserable pint of bitter and then converted to Coca cola and Glen stuck to soft drinks throughout. Four or five pints later I felt infinitely better. Am I perhaps reliant on alcohol?

Tony came down with a buxom maiden and a split in his trousers and indulged in the usual frivolities. She, the buxom maiden, seemed quite nice, and in the usual cast.

with Martyn & Glen

Back to Pine Tops for lunch at 2. Martyn and I are pissed up. Dave, Glen, Martyn and I then went to see John & Maria and JPH for half an hour and then the lads returned to Stockport. I'll be going down to see them soon - my next free Saturday is June 25. I'll make a state visit then.

Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Pete N, Martyn and I went to the Flying Pizza in Leeds and had a Jubilee nosh up. A good laugh. It's a rare event these days to get out for something to eat. We do seem to be motivated by drink - a sad reflection on the youth of today. Forever Pissed, is an apt motto. On to the Oddfellows at Greengates where Michelle is with her boyfriend. Have a bit of a chat - but no mention of Friday's romantic grapple up against Tony's car.

-==-

Saturday June 4, 1977

Tony and Martyn come this morning to help me put up the Jubilee bunting for the party. A large poster of the Queen in full regalia in the ballroom at Buckingham Palace goes up in a prominent position in the lounge along with Jubilee balloons and a Norman Parkinson portrait too. Very patriotic indeed.

The lads went to Bradford but I stayed at home waiting for Dave and Glen to join us. They arrived at 3.30 and after lunch I took them to Otley where we find an of-licence shop for wine and ale. The three of us spent about £3 each.  We get on famously and Dave is anxious to know when I'm going to Stockport again. The night at the Poco Club was a fabulous evening and it's a shame we don't all meet up more frequently.

Edith & Ernest

Tony, Martyn, Dave, Glen and I went to the Commercial together. Mum, Dad, John, Maria, Sue, Peter, Lynn, Dave B, Dave L, MM, Marita, Sarah, Peter B, Chris, Peter N are in the pub. Not many, and no 'spare' ladies at all. Chris and Pete _________.They're shocked when I say I won't be going to Denise's 21st. I'll be in Stockport on July 9. They took this news very badly. Peter Baker and Sarah had some sort of disagreement in the pub and he took her off home after half an hour or so much to my astonishment. I rang her at 11.30 but she hadn't arrived home and so I presume they must have 'made up' and gone elsewhere.

The throng was joined at home by Edith and Ernest and Mike and Maureen Eccles (the new neighbours). Not many at all really and Lynn says it's the quietest party of all time. I wasn't too pissed and yet I cannot recall much to report. Parties tend to blend together and a six hour spree can be condensed into the space of a few minutes. Glen and I were the last men standing and we were in the dining room listening to Cinzano and drinking the Santana LP 'Abraxas' ...or was it the other way round? I had a couple of cigarettes. That's the minute of my miserable life. It was agonizing watching the dawn break over Tranmere Park and the dreadful racket made by the birds. Oh, my head!

-==-

Friday June 3, 1977

Dave of Stockport rings to say Glen is having a spot of car trouble and that they are now coming tomorrow instead.

Tony.

Tony and I spent the whole day in the garden sunbathing. Just sprawled out in the garden covered in sun tan lotion with the radio serenading us. Wonderful. Mother brought a halt to this when she asked us to go to Morrison's to do the weekly shop for her. We went up at 4 o'clock. Just imagine - me and Tony with a trolley and shopping bags. He's quite a good bargain finder too - he must be used to it what with him once being a married man & the obligations that go with that institution. Mother was very relieved and grateful when she saw the £14 worth of goods piled in the kitchen awaiting her inspection. She loathes shopping.

Meanwhile: that night. Out with Tony and Martyn to the Bod (Bradford) where we meet Michelle and her friends. A nice girl called Mary caught my eye. I have a feeling that Michelle fancies me. Do I fancy her? Well, she's very nice looking, perhaps a bit fat, but endowed with a sweet personality.

We all go on to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton which is very full. Martyn paled with anger and became quite violent in the seething pack of sweating bodies. Took Michelle and the girls home. We kissed against the car. Tony found this very funny sand suggested that Martyn might drive the car in future so that he could sit in the back. He couldn't see why I should have all the fun. In by 11.30pm.

-==-

Sunday May 15, 1977

Hereward the Wake

Rogation Sunday. Up at 6.30am with the biggest hangover history has ever seen. The combined hangovers of Hereward the Wake, Edward the Confessor, Napoleon, George Bernard Shaw and Mitzi Gaynor only equal half the one I experienced this morning. Water. All I wanted was water. I would have willingly swapped my best girl for a glass of chilled H2o. Dave obliged by rushing to the bathroom and bringing me a cup full. Passed into unconsciousness and slept until about 10.30. Discuss Glenn's disappearance but we decide not to visit his residence just in case he never made it home last night. Good God. Suppose he's fallen into the Manchester Ship Canal?

Mitzi Gaynor.

Dave accidentally locked his bedroom door with the key inside and we spent half an hour trying to break in. Eventually we used a large built gent from the tap room as a battering ram. Dave and I were in the bar by 12.10 and ale was supped until 2pm. joined by Garry and another guy whose name escapes me. At 2 Dave and I take lunch in the private apartments of the Hollywood and we shared a bottle of wine (Chevalier de la Rose Grand vin De Bourgogne. Importers H. Sichel and Sons Ltd, W2). Not too bad.

Glenn called on us with his holiday money (£145) and the three of us went to the pool room for a game. Laugh myself stupid at Dave who clowns around like no one I've ever known. At 7 o'clock it's time to part. Had a word with Jim Glynn and went to the bar and bought Mrs G a drink and said farewell. The lads took me to Manchester at 7.30-ish and I was home by 10.30 with £290 in my pocket. The lads are coming on June 3 and I plan to go back to Stockport on July 9, the day before 'Operation Ibiza'.

Martyn and Tony are at Pine Tops and M gives me a blank cheque for tomorrow's pilgrimage to WH Smith and Sons. Bath and bed at approximately midnight.

-=-

Saturday May 14, 1977

Susan wakes me at 8.30 and I leave for Leeds at about 10 o'clock.  Say farewell to Uncle Bert who is injecting some foul smelling liquid into the stub where his poor leg once reclined. Nauseating, eh?

Leave Leeds at 1055 and get into Manchester by 12.15. I walk through Manchester wearing a blue and white striped T-shirt. This may seem to be a normal thing to do, and indeed had I adorned my body with the said T-shirt in Cambridge, Milford Haven and possibly Carnarvon it would have been. Not Manchester, however. The local dominant football team are quite partial to a more crimson hue. Yes, Manchester Utd, of course. I sought refuge in a telephone box to avoid a particularly vicious looking mob. As I crouched 'neath the volumes of yellow pages my thoughts were with Queen Marie Antoinette and how she must have felt as the filthy Parisians dragged her through the streets in a rickety tumbril.

Got to Stockport and met Dave G. He informs me that my troublesome shirt is in the colours of Stockport County FC and gives me a pat on the back and takes me to the Unity for a drink. Six or seven drinks to be exact. Meet a couple of his friends - Steve (who I met last time), Garry and Billy. A sobering stroll round Stockport.  The climax of the afternoon is a coffee in a Wimpy Bar.

The Hollywood Hotel

Back to the Hollywood and meet Mr & Mrs Glynn. See the Muppets on TV. Also see Glenn.

To the Unity with with Dave G, Glenn, Garry, Steve and Billy plus two unnamed females who are lovely little movers, and one of them (Holly) fancies me, I think. Go by taxi to the Poco Club where 'The Brothers' are appearing. (The do "Sing Me" which they had in the charts). We didn't even see them anyway and got pissed in the adjoining disco. Glenn disappeared at 1am after an ice throwing contest with Dave and I as we did our usual formation dance routine. Really a hysterical evening. Dave and I back to the Hollywood at 2.30am by taxi and sleep head to toe (or arse to tit) in Dave's large bed.

-=-

Sunday April 3, 1977

Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday indeed. With Dave G, Glenn, Christine, Lynn and Dave B, Mum & Dad to the Commercial at noon. The locals didn't trot ahead in front of me throwing palms and other objects of flora in my path. Dad wasn't astride a donkey either.

with CB: in perfect shape.

Lynn is like a zombie. Dead to the world. We all - that is everyone on the above list - felt recovered somewhat with the medicinal intake of alcohol. Alas, the drink must have effected my eyes because the ink here has changed to something strongly resembling black currant. Was I drinking vodka and black last night?

CB is in perfect shape. Just like old times. It makes life well worth living. All back to Pine Tops for luncheon. Horrified by the idea of working this evening. It's pouring with rain too and CB looks expectantly at people, fluttering her eye lashes, in an attempt to get a lift to the bus stop. No such bloody luck. We walked into Guiseley in a deluge and waited for what seemed like all eternity for the public transport.

Nothing of interest at the YP. Dead in fact. Ursula is a nice girl. I'm a nice boy. You're a patient reader.




-=-

Saturday April 2, 1977

Wait all day for Dave G and Glenn. Watched the Grand National on TV at 3.30. Red Rum won for the third time making history. We had a private bet on at home. Sue backed the winner.One of mine fell at the first fence and had to be destroyed.

with CB, Ruth and Dave G.

The lads arrived at about 4 o'clock. They're both in great shape. Tea of haddock flan, then down to the off licence for booze and on to the Hare. John, Maria, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Pete, Chris R, Miss Dibb, Graham Airey, Andy, Linda, Carol Smith and boyfriend, little Jean, and later Mum and Dad, CB, Judith and Kathryn, &c. All back to Pine Tops. A real piss up. Don't remember much. Do recall wearing sunglasses and annoying people playing John's mouth organ. I almost set myself on fire trying to take a group photograph from the top of the fireplace in the lounge. Freaking out until 5am.

As far as I know only Martyn, Ruth, Judith and Kathryn, Dave G, Dave B, Glenn and I were the only ones remaining at dawn, and others, who have no grave but the sea, may well have been fighting it out until the bitter end. I found refuge in my bed. CB was unconscious on Lynn's bed and subsequently my sister was relegated to sleeping on the bedroom floor. I did the washing up and clearing around before passing out. Yes,I am made of the stuff that made England great. Christopher Columbus, Robert the Bruce, Hereward the Wake - all stout Englishmen who pioneered to achieve the greatest empire since F.W. Woolworth opened all them shops.

-=-

Sunday March 27, 1977

Passion Sunday. I like the sound of that.  Wake up to snow and hail. Do nothing whatsoever other than eat lunch and lounge around with a crumby Sunday newspaper. To be honest with you, I don't feel greatly informative today so don't expect anything astounding.

Did you know Mr Healey is presenting his Budget on Tuesday? Yes, and I bet he makes it a good one because of Labour's precarious position at the moment. Not discussing politics anyway.

Rang Dave G in Stockport at 7pm. He and Glenn are definitely coming on Saturday for my official birthday celebrations.

The Tenerife crash, 1977.

Work 5pm-12 midnight. Nothing spectacular here either. The world's worst ever aviation accident has taken place in the Canary Islands. 7,000,000 people dead, or something. Otherwise, nothing at all. Ursula never stops talking. I bet her jaws ache.

Crikey, it's Mrs Hilda Gadsby's 41st birthday tomorrow. She is of course the wife of Norman Anthony Gadsby, prospective Liberal councillor for the Borough of Pudsey.

Home by taxi in the snow at 12. Bed with P.G. Wodehouse. Goodnight.

-==-

Tuesday January 18, 1977

Sweet dreams until midday. The hour of 12 no less. I emerged from my bed in no placid frame of mind. I attempted to bite Mama's head off and swore and cursed as I devoured my lunch. People do tell me that I can change suddenly from being the perfect specimen of gentility to a snarling beast within seconds. A split personality do you think? My cousin ________is a schizophrenic so perhaps I am too. Is it hereditary? Yours worriedly, Mr Hyde. From my mental state to the physical side. I am much improved today, but not ready for the great responsibilities of the Yorkshire Post. Well, not until Thursday anyway. -=-

Cousin Sam, me and Papa ....

Michelle (the friendly travel agent) rang me this afternoon to say the Hotel Pacific was booked provisionally until 4.30. She is sweet. I ask her to hang on until tomorrow. I'm sure everyone will agree. I ring Chris and he says 'yes'. So does Peter M. Glenn rings and we go into raptures over 'Ibiza 77' chanting 'Up Pam' &c. Watch a play on the TV and discuss Papa's parentage with him before retiring to bed. He says his mother was born at a place called Lewis in Wiltshire. There are only two Lewises. One is in the Outer Hebrides and the other is spelt LEWES and is in Sussex - near Eastbourne. That must be the place, but first I'll write to Uncle Harry in Cumbria for confirmation.

Wednesday July 7, 1976

Peter didn't propose to Carmina yesterday, but from tonight's conversation he may well be doing it at this very moment.

Out to the bars with Dave G, Glenn and Lucia, Carmina & Monsi - they go home tomorrow morning & we'll never see them again. Sad, because we have become such friends.

Pete & Carmina go off for a quiet walk and I go up in the lift with Lucia. I got out on the second floor and stood watching as she disappeared up to the third. We have exchanged addresses, but nothing could ever be the same again.

Glenn and I open a couple of bottles of wine in my room (40 pesetas each) and we proceeded to get pissed up. Giggling and laughing like a pair of fourteen year-old school girls - but if you can't giggle on holiday, when the Hell can you?

-==-