Monday March 24, 1975

Rather a nervous day today. On my arrival at the YP Lynn rings me from home to say that a Mr Simpson from Greenwood's wants me to contact him about the job vacancy. I immediately do so and he asks me to go for an interview at 10.30 tomorrow morning. Eileen takes her driving test then, so I ask whether I can go today. We plan a meeting for 5pm. I receive Royal permission from Sarah to leave at 1 o'clock, and come home for lunch.

Mum says that poor Sue didn't get into Nursing College, and that Lynn is having at interview at Barclays Bank at 4.30 today.

At 3 I leap into the bath to make myself presentable for the coming onslaught. You never know, it might be Bye Bye YP before the month is out.

Meanwhile: Later the same day. No, it won't be Bye Bye to the YP at all. In fact, the Yorkshire Post is like Heaven in comparison with the Greenwood Empire. On my arrival at the dreaded place I met a Mr Simpson. He informs me that 'Mr Denis' (whom I presume is Mr Denis Greenwood) 'doesn't like long hair' and so if I should be employed therein, it would all have to go. This didn't amuse me much. I nearly died with laughter on being informed that my wage would amount to £18 at the start and would increase to the vast Onassis-like £20 on my 20th birthday. In other words, a slump of £6 would be awaiting me at the Greenwood's Empire. The prospects too are non-existant. I'll dwell on the subject no more today. I can't wait for the cheerful call of the Yorkshire Post tomorrow morning.

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Saturday March 22, 1975

I didn't think about kipping down until almost 3.0am. The sight of Dad going to work at 6am was most unusual. Dave and me lay in the dark talking all night. I can't have dropped off until about 6.30.

I was furious at Wikis last night. Maura, whom God Preserve, was chatting with Denny and I, when Dave Knowles, her former fiance, called her over. Naturally she went over for a chat, only to be kicked in the stomach. Poor Maura pretended not to be injured, but went straight home.

All Denny could say over and over was 'the bastard, the bastard', referring to her former associate, Adrian. Poor Dave's gear box fell off yesterday and the clutch is far from well. He bought the car in good faith from Adrian a couple of months ago. Naturally, Denny feels guilty and responsible because when Dave quizzed her about the state of the car she replied: 'Oh it's great'.

Whilst reading her paper this morning Mama saw an advert relating to a job in the designing department at Greenwoods in Guiseley. She gets me to put a letter together and it's posted forthwith. Await further details with anticipation.

A drunken occasion this evening. The gang met at the Hare & Hounds as usual, but at 10 o'clock Andy suggests a pub crawl around Addingham. I immediately agree, and we all depart. After an hours solid lager swilling session I am sick in the car park of one of the pubs, then it's back to Naomi's to see a lousy 1945 film. John was sick too.

Oh, Uncle Peter and Co. came today. Forgot about it.

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