Saturday March 31, 1979

_. Up at 10:30 in the smoke-filled, smelly dining room. The place resembles Winston Churchill's wartime bunker beneath Whitehall. Both Dad and David B are clad in blue boiler suits and puffing out cigar smoke like experimental beagle dogs in one of those cancer research centres.  Had a bowl of porridge.

Ian Dury's New Boots and Panties ...

Went to Leeds with Sue & Peter. They really are my constant companions these days. Leeds was overcrowded. We had a couple of drinks at the Ostlers and, for my birthday, they bought me "New Boots and Panties" the Ian Dury LP. Pete bought a new squash racket and oddments of clothing. Back at home at 3:30 the LP refused to play and made a queer noise on the turn table and it rattled and shook.  Oh dear.

Stayed at home this evening. Saw a film about General George S. Patton, the US war leader, and finally, at 11:20,  "A Night at the Opera" featuring Groucho Marx and Co. Very hilarious.

Mum and Dad are the picture of domesticity, he rug making, and she knitting away.



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Friday December 16, 1977

Groucho.

_.To London with my nose running all over the coach. Jacqui met me at Victoria and we went straight to Muswell Hill, which took hours. Party there tonight. My Groucho was good. Jacqui was Shirley Temple, Joy was Liza Minelli, and Jan a gypsy.

Jacqui as Shirley Temple.

Monday December 5, 1977

_.Much better today. Out of bed by 10:30 and spent the day reading 'The Millionairess' by G.B.S. I'm in stitches at much of the dialogue. It's far better than 'The Apple Cart'.

Had kippers at lunch and pork this evening.

Harold Pinter.

Peter N hobbled up to see us. Lynn spent the evening with David at Pool in Wharfedale.

The TV was crap except for Barry Humphries, but he was only on for 30 minutes or so. At 9 o'clock we switched off. I walked around the house, hands in pockets, complaining I had nothing to do. It was reminiscent of my childhood. I have decided to write a play. I'm going to be a second Mr Shaw or Harold Pinter.

Jacqui phoned. She can't get any specs like Groucho Marx, or at least she can't from Derek Sate. I tackled Ernest tonight and he said he might have a pair somewhere. Back to Jacqui: she was in high spirits and sympathetic about the Bubonic plague (my illness). I also wrote to Carole and told her I'm at home. _____.

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Sunday November 13, 1977

Remembrance Sunday - 23rd after Trinity. A bright, sunny day. Jacqui and I walked to the Commercial at 12. The pub isn't full in the usual Sunday fashion but we enjoyed it. We discuss the fancy dress party at Lord's Cricket Ground on December 16. What can I go along as? A policeman? A tart? A French maid? No, we decided upon the late Groucho Marx who should be quite easy to imitate. I need to lay hands on a morning coat with tails and a pair of baggy trousers. Jacqui is going as Shirley Temple. Oh My God!

Poldark ...

We do get on well. ________. After a good lunch we went to Leeds where she got her bus (or coach if you're posh) to London at 5pm. Returning to Guiseley I saw Carole's brother, Peter, and his girlfriend. He said hello.

Just watched TV tonight. Saw episode 48 million of 'Poldark' and then a film. To bed at midnight with a certain nameless volume written by an author of French persuasion.




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Sunday August 21, 1977

11th after Trinity. Woke at 11 feeling quite dead. Mr Brotherwood Senior, grinning broadly, deposited a cup of tea by my bed and made a quick exit from the room. Tony was outside beating his sheepskin car rugs with a large wire brush. He laughed on seeing me and joked about the pinkness of my eyes and deathly hue of my palid cheeks. We then attacked slices of hot buttered toast with Mrs B's constant chatter as a back drop.

Groucho.

See in the Sunday Times that the genius Groucho Marx is dead. Let us hope that, as in the case of the late, lamented Mr Presley, the BBC will now show all the Marx Brothers films because 'Duck Soup', 'A Day at the Races' and 'A Night at the Opera' are masterpieces of comedy. The Elvis films are starting on the BBC next Wednesday.

We went back to the White Horse taking Mrs Brotherwood with us. Tony and I drank tomato juice. Mrs B was on the sherry.

Sunday lunch was at 2 followed by a slight kip and then we hit the road for the north at 4pm. Home via Goodwood and picturesque Sussex and various other bits of that area of which I know nothing. We ate our packed picnic of cheese and spring onion sandwiches in the car, and I had mine as we passed Kew Gardens at about 6.30.  We were at Bradford and in the Bod at 9.30. At times Tony  had been doing over 100mph on the M1. Wendy and Anne were in the Bod and we planned to go to Annabella's with them on Wednesday and to the WH Smith party, I think. I'm surprised we weren't thrown out for all the attention we were drawing to ourselves. Three pints of Guinness, no money an one hour later I returned home to find everyone at Edith and Ernest's and in a state of intoxication. Even Lynn and David back from Italy - not as brown as they should be.

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Friday February 6, 1976

Twenty-four years ago today Princess Elizabeth learned in Kenya that she had become Queen of the United Kingdom & Head of the Commonwealth, &c.

A night at home in what seems like the first time in many, many years. John took me down to the bus stop at 8.30 and I waited for a few minutes for Carole, who comes on the bus. We walked up the lane together and sat watching television with Mum, Dad, Sue and Peter. Some bright spark suggested going to the off-license for a few bottles and for fish and chips. The venture cost me and Mum £3 between us, and I decide it would have been cheaper to go get drunk in the Hare & Hounds.

I attempted to review my financial situation tonight and decide that £10 a week hidden away will give me my annual holiday without much trouble.

I rang Denny about John and Chris cancelling, and she says they have definately lost their deposits but I insist that Peter and I still want to go. Admittedly, the wedding and other events will make this year quite expensive, but I don't see why I should have to call off my holiday.

Lynn and Dave get back from the Hare & Hounds at about 10.30 and we all watch a Marx Brothers film which is hilarious. Groucho is still fantastically funny, whereas the rest of the gang are dated and quite humourless now.

Carole is taken home by Dave at 1am or 2am.

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Monday August 25, 1975

Holiday in England, N. Ireland & Wales. Back to the office. Ugh. The fact that it's Bank Holiday Monday makes it worse because the thought of everyone staying in bed until noon whilst I struggled across a deserted town was far from pleasant.

See Sarah and Kathleen and they both agree that I'm a tremendous colour. Work until 1pm and then Kathleen lets me go. I get the 55 bus with Sarah and arrive home at about 2 o'clock. The weather is still quite warm, but I don't sit out in it when I arrive home. I've had enough after 2 weeks in Majorca and 2 full weeks lying around in the sun.

Sue is watching a rotten film starring W.C. Fields, which is cronic. I devour beans on toast, and then see a Marx Brothers film 'Duck Soup' which is hilarious in parts.
Groucho should be knighted in the New Year's Honours list. If Charlie Chaplin can be (knighted), I fail to see why Groucho can't.

No much in the news whilst I've been away. Some nutter saw fit to dig up the Headingley cricket pitch in the middle of the Test Match, which seems a bit of a silly thing to do, and the historic event to beat all other historic events is the re-union of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. They're going to re-marry, and at the moment they're carrying on like a pair of 16 year-olds with the first pangs of love!

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