Showing posts with label homosexuality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homosexuality. Show all posts

20170227

Friday March 16, 1979

_. More snow today. At 5pm I battled across Leeds to complete Bill North's major operation. Was all cleaned up in a couple of hours and we parted on speaking terms, and I had all on carrying the wads of cash down the stairs. I almost danced my way to Kirkstall because the weight of responsibility had been lifted from my shoulders like a cloud of low depression being wiped from the BBC weather chart.

Bill had kept his revolting highly effeminate hands to himself throughout the refurbishment and he had avoided propositioning me for sexual favours, or offering me cash to flash my y-fronts, or the contents thereof. What an incredibly boring existence he leads. He told me that he is very often in bed at 9:30pm after the 'Archers' and various other ghastly Radio 4 programmes. By the look of things his boyfriends must be few, or far between.

Home in a snow-drift and devour a rotten dinner with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Ice-skating is on the tv. How exciting, eh? Bed at midnight. Exhausted.

-=-

20150212

Saturday January 6, 1979

Epiphany.

The boiler in Lynn's bathroom bangs a good deal.  Up at 11. Ate toast and then went out with Lynn to buy some meat for David's Sunday lunch. All very domesticated. A cold, slushy day.

Back to Lawn Rd for 12:30. We dismantled the Chrirtmas tree. I amused Lynn by deflating the balloons and telling her to save them all until next Christmas.

Dave later went out to see George (Waite) about a coal bunker. Home at 2. At 5 Mum and Dad left for a party at Auntie Mabel's, and then it happened. All Hell was released upon Hawksworth Lane in what is termed 'a three car pile~up'. It was just after 5 when I heard an almighty bang come from the kitchen. I opened the door and in fell Susan Prior, with grit and gravel all over her fur coat. A man with a beard was holding her up. He told me he had bumped into her car and she had smashed into the rear of Peter N's Capri. All three cars were near the top of our drive in a pathetic huddle.

The man with the beard handed Miss Prior a blank sheet of paper and asked her to sign the bottom. Wisely, she refused to do this. She refused to say anything until her boyfriend arrived from playing squash at Headingley. The beard had two girls with him. One became hysterical. She had recently lost a brother in a car accident and insisted on screaming: "Kevin! Kevin!" at the top of her voice. I presumed Kevin to be the unfortunate brother. JPH came into the kitchen and ran around imitating a police car and bursting balloons.

Then, the squash playing boyfriend arrived. His fly was down and his cock clearly exposed. I didn't like to mention this. It poked out for all to see. The gravel filled fur coated Miss Prior had a weep, and the beard wanted her blood and things became very heated. It was like a scene in downtown Teheran. Miss Prior and the indecently exposed boyfriend went outside to her car (where presumably she spotted his exposed genitals), and the beard rang his father who arrived promptly, looking like Jeremy Thorpe in a trilby and dark overcoat. This gent suggested that Miss Prior should be booked for driving without due care and attention. Peter phoned Dad at Auntie Mabel's for some advice. They all converged onto the lane and some haggling took place. Little JPH ate an apple and dashed about between the hagglers. He helped defuse the situation.

Eventually the police were summoned. A constable with black teeth and a flashing blue light arrived half an hour later. He told the beard that he was just as liable as Miss Prior, and told them to exchange addresses for insurance purposes. I thought he might arrest the squash player for indecent exposure, but he can't have noticed the dangling cock.

The girl with the dead brother Kevin became tearful once more. Then a van came to tow away the wrecked vehicles and they all suddenly became very apologetic. It was the closest I have been to ever embracing the lovely Sue Prior (from No. 90, Hawksworth Lane).

Peter took it all marvelously even though his Capri suffered £200 worth of damage. Susan is very good in a crisis.

Jim Nason arrived at 7:30 to inspect the damage before taking Sue, Pete and I to the White Cross. Joined by Chippy, Gus, Johnny, Mick (?), and Dave W {who disappeared after an argument over his charging us all 30p to take us to Burley in Wharfedale}. In fact the language was quite violent and abusive so much so that the landlord asked us to be quiet.

At 10:45 we went by bus to the Flying Pizza at Burley in Wharfedale. The food was hideous. We laughed when Frank asked the waitress for "French fries" and she replied: "don't you mean chips?" Upstairs a sort of discotheque was underway and Josephine and a crowd from the Regent were in. Chippy was being obnoxious. Josephine asked him to "stop fucking swearing". We all followed her into the dance area but the revolting manager with spectacles and Italian features told us to take our drinks back downstairs "because even a blind man can see this area is for dancing only". How very rude. Chippy got into an argument. The manager removed his spectacles and offered to give Chippy a thrashing outside. Johnny and Frank left to go to town. The manager quipped that he didn't cater for homosexuals on his premises. We drank up and left. I gave him (the manager) a naughty wink and blew a provocative kiss. It wasn't well received.

It was raining and we thought of walking to Lynn and Dave's. The lads walked towards Guiseley and me and Sue went to Lawn Road.

-=-






20130612

Sunday May 14, 1978

Whit Sunday ~ Pentecost

Sue, Pete, Jacq and I made lunch ~ all together in the kitchen and afterwards we watched Lord Olivier in the 1940s version of 'Hamlet'. I enjoyed it but Jacq looked miserable and Sir Larry's procrastinating drove Sue and Pete from the room.

I felt decidedly sick & low all day. Lynn and Dave came back from Burley-in-Wharfedale covered in grime.

We had beefburgers and fried onions and afterwards I walked Jacq to the bus stop, and one actually arrived that intended going all the way to Leeds. She mounted this rare article of public transport but not before an interesting piece of conversation had taken place regarding my sexual orientation.

In the Shoulder last night Tony told her I am ACDC. We laughed about it. It just goes to show what rubbish is bandied about in the bars and lounges of the dear English pub.
Tony ________________________________. Oh dear.

Mum and Dad come back from Scarborough after a riotous weekend with Edith, Ernest, Margaret and Jim.

-=-

20120830

Thursday September 15, 1977

Good old Lynn and David, eh? I am so relieved that they have stuck it out to the bitter end like this. I cannot wish for a better brother-in-law than David, and I told him so at lunchtime when we went to the Boar's Head, a new pub near the Bond Street development. He was feeling rough after last night and only managed one, solitary pint, but I managed to put away a couple. He could not understand why he felt so nervous approaching Mum and Dad because he knows them so well. I tell him how good and considerate it was of them to give the family prior notice of the engagement. I don't think Mum and Dad would have wanted them just to walk in with a ring.

Dave & Lynn.
I left Dave at about 1.15 and staggered back to the YP. Work was ghastly. I'm not discussing it, anyway. How can I talk about work when my beautiful sister is about to embark on the biggest step down life's pathway? That innocent little child on whom I've showered my brotherly affection for almost 20 years is going to be married, with all the responsibilities appertaining thereto, BEFORE ME! Am I neglecting my duty as an older brother? Should I set a shining example to my younger kin by taking a bride in hand? Is it right and proper for a 22 year-old male, and a healthy one I hope, to be set permanently in the wicked ways of bachelorhood? How long will it be before the whispering begins? You know the sort of thing I'm getting at: "Hey Doris, did you see Michael Rhodes in his pink socks?" And: "Isn't it queer, Doris, how he's always behind the bicycle sheds with his boy scouts?" &c. No doubt about it. If I'm still unattached by my 25th birthday I'll be branded homosexual for sure. Who knows though? The visit of Jacqui a week on Friday may trigger another romance that will outshine the one with the late Miss Mather, or even Carole. We'll see anyway.

-=-

20120214

Saturday February 26, 1977

A great day. Tony and Martyn come at 12.30 and the three of us go to Bradford. The Gay Liberation movement are holding a mass rally and we seriously consider setting up a 'Kiss Me Quick' stall in Manningham Lane.

Kiss Me Quick Stall?
We go to WH Smith's and make verbal love to Michelle. Delightful bird. Tony buys a pair of shoes, and at 2pm we set off for Uncle George's** residence at Harewood. Up to our knees in mud and slime we head straight for the beer tent where the lager is unbearably cold. Three sausage rolls later we decide that the hill climb is incredibly boring and we head back to the car which is parked in a cow field. Wading through water-bogged trenches we spot the car trapped in by three or four other vehicles. It's like the Battle of Vimy Ridge. Coated in shit we dislodge the car and set off like Japanese mud wrestlers in search of a car wash.

Meanwhile: That night. Down to the Hare with Tony, John & Maria. CB is pissed and says Richard Marshall is rotting in a dungeon in Leeds following an incident at the (Leeds) United match this afternoon. Chris and Pete M come in. Go with Tony, John and Maria to the Craven Heifer at Addingham and Chris and Pete follow on. Tony is such a great lad.

** The Rt Hon. Earl of Harewood.

-==-

20110819

Tuesday September 21, 1976



Sorry if I'm neglecting daily bulletins on Maria's condition but things really have ceased to happen. She shows as many signs of giving birth as I do. Oops, I've just had quins. No, but rely on me, as soon as I hear anything you'll be the first to know.

Oh no!! You are not going to like this at all. Do you recall what I said on the previous page about 'the YP plodding along quite nicely...' &c? Well I'm very sorry to say that the paragraph at the bottom of the page is one catastrophic error and should have appeared on this page. It was tonight that the Duke of Edinburgh didn't get lost at sea, and it was on this eventful night that Leonard James Callaghan continued to breathe and his heart continued to pump regardless of the Rhodesian question, and the somewhat 'murky' past of Davina Sheffield.

Monday night was in fact a quiet one spent in front of another Dirk Bogarde film on the BBC. Is it true that he is homosexual, or is it a figment of my imagination? [Come on you lot! Take down a copy of 'Who was Who in the Acting World of the Twentieth Century' and look up Mr Bogarde for me].

Still sleeping on a camp bed.

-==-

20101116

Monday April 26, 1976



For the first time in months I passed a whole day without seeing or hearing from Carole. I feel better for it really because at times I'm close to suffocation with it all. I need to feel free and uncaged. Not that she imposes any restrictions on me understand. Oh to be Robinson Crusoe.

Busy at the YP. Kathleen is on holiday for the week. See on the 9 o'clock news that Sid James, the comedian, has died. A fan of the 'Carry On' films as I once was - in my youth - cannot help feeling sad at this loss. Best remembered for his haggard face and dirty laugh.

See a good film 'If' starring Malcolm McDowell. I've seen it before and enjoyed it the first time. Shows the public school system in a bad light. Any parent who sends an impressionable child away to a boarding school can only expect to get a feeble, perverted, homosexual back at the end of the 5 or 6 year stint because the places are dens of sadistic cruelty.

-==-

20101012

Saturday February 7, 1976


Up at 8.50am which must be the earliest I've been up on a Saturday since I gave up Saturday mornings at the YP last Jan.

Have a bath and get a bus to Carole's. I catch her with a cigarette. She says she was only smoking because she thought I wasn't going to turn up. If she ever gives up I will eat my right ear.

Go to Otley market and buy a £3.95 waist coat which matches my levi-type jeans, and buy a film for my camera.

We got off the bus at Hawksworth Lane and Carole left her suitcase in the luggage rack and we almost lost it for good, but her presence of mind retrieved it within seconds of us alighting.

Set off for Uncle Harry's at 1pm. Stop for a few drinks in Skipton and arrive at Ravenglass at 4.30 or thereabouts. After roast beef and Yorkshire pudding in his wonderful little cottage we go to a local pub - all nine of us - and stay until after 11pm. Carole doesn't say much and I think she finds it hard to communicate with Uncle Harry, who is perhaps too 'deep' for her.

Back at the cottage Harry puts on a Spanish record and raves about it all night. By 1am everyone - except me - are shagged out, and drifting off to different sleeping spots, but Uncle H and I sit by the fire until 4.30 to solve the problems of the world.

He says he won't be around for much longer and if he's still here in five years it will be a miracle. I tell him he is not an alcoholic, but he says he's seen hundreds of men like him on mortuary slabs and that he most certainly is one. 'You see, Michael' he said 'you can tell an alcoholic not by what he drinks, but by what he doesn't eat.'

I do know that Harry has the apetite of a sparrow with stomach cancer. I fear for him very much. Typical, that out of all my uncles my favourite one has to have suicidal ambitions. He's not too late to be cured, but he hasn't the will to live. Other than this we talk about Margaret Thatcher, Airey Neave (who he says is the real power behind Mrs T), communism in Britain, fascism, King Juan Carlos, holidays in Spain, Mr Jeremy Thorpe, homosexuals, and Harold Macmillan. And throughout we have the Spanish LP banging away in the background keeping a good many of the guests upstairs awake.

-==-

20101011

Wednesday February 4, 1976


Efficient day at the office because Kathleen is at the Doncaster office for the day visiting the Vivien Nicholson-type female who came over here for the week not too long ago.

Sarah is in high spirits and I may be thick - you've probably known all along - but I think that sometimes she quite fancies me. Don't get me wrong. I've no plans to involve myself with her. No plans at all. Carole is the one for me at the moment.

I write to Carole again (I wrote yesterday) and spend all lunchtime at it.

Sarah and Eileen leave at 4 o'clock and I work with Carol until 4.30.

Marita is on page 1 of the EP! Pictured with her postman. Evidently he sent her a card on her birthday, or something, and her Dad was so touched he wrote to Malcolm Barker, &c &c.

Jeremy Thorpe is asking to resign now (as leader of the Liberal party) and the whole business is becoming more and more involved.

I don't see why he should resign because he's homosexual. If we can have a woman leading the Conservative party and a man leading the Labour party it seems only right and proper that the leader of the Liberal party should be something in-between. The man is a fool for offering to resign in the first place. In these promiscuous times I can't see the public objecting to the sexual escapades of a politician. (I do really. Just trying to write something controversial).

But seriously, Jeremy Thorpe may be a first class politician and I feel sad that he shouldn't have to go simply because he fancies young men with nice legs. After all, just look at Edward Heath. He is as bent as a £12 note but most of the Tory party continue to idolise him two years after his death. They'll be telling us next that Margaret Thatcher is a lesbian.

Home for tea at 5.30 and attempt to get in the bath afterwards which is foolish because John and Susan are on the same caper and they show more cunning that I do.

Carole rings twice. The first time we just have a friendly chat, but on the second call she's near to tears complaining about the way her mother and father treat her. They really are a pair of swines and I tell her to be more ruthless with them. The poor thing is far too soft and servile to fight back. She is coming to tea tomorrow night and we're going out afterwards most likely.

I go to bed with a cup of cocoa at about 10.30 to escape the winter olympics on TV.

-==-

20091118

Friday October 4, 1974

Up at the unearthly hour of 8.30 in order to tidy the place for Mum, who is expecting a little man round to mend her cooker.

 Sit in the dining room and drain the contents of a full tea-pot. Continue with the biography of Prince Albert Victor, which states in a round-about sort of way that he had several homosexual relationships whilst at Cambridge University in the 1880s. It must really be a blessing that the poor soul never lived to be king.

Much later: everyone to the Hare & Hounds, including Lynn and Christine Dibb. Stay till 9.30, and Dave B arrives with Denny, and he looks positively thrilled when he lays eyes on Lynn. See the photographs from last Saturday which are fantastic. The let down of the evening is when everyone refuses to go to Wikis. I insist that we all should go - Sarah Jane will be there - but they take little notice of me. John invites everyone back to our place, but before the pubs shut we all go to the Yorkshire Rose - a grotty place indeed. Back to Pine Tops where we show Mum the photos. She is almost hysterical. See a terrible film on the BBC which fascinates Chris, him being a Dracula-Frankenstein, Werewolf type. Far too ridiculous for my taste. Dave and Lynn were sitting together all night, which pleased me immensely. Denny and I are in the same chair which proves painful for me in many places. To bed after getting rid of everyone at about 1.0am. Miss not going to Wikis. Poor Sarah Jane.

-==-

20090514

Tuesday December 18, 1973

Interesting day at the YP. Worked a shift for Lynn at the Chuck Wagon this evening . Saw Sue (Riley) who is expecting her first child in six days. She's quite massive and is now much more blond and with very short hair. Toffer is much the same. Quite busy for a Tuesday. 

Les, (they say he's "queer") brought me home in his Bentley at 11.45. Had a bath in the newly decorated bathroom, and the new carpet, fitted today, is superb. Not tired at all. Bed 1.30am. 

 PS - Pam Barlow rang whilst I was out. What can she possibly want ? 

 --==--

20090427

Sunday September 2, 1973

11th after Trinity. Awake at 9 o'clock. John was already up awaiting the arrival of Dave, who is chauffeuring me to York and Rufforth today. He arrived at 9.10.

Later: Marita, Chris, John, Christine W, MM, Linda, Dave and I set off for York. By 10.45 we are all standing outside York Minster - very impressive without all the terrible scaffolding which has dominated the building since the mid 1960s. We go see the Shambles. I am not very impressed this time. At 12.0 we leave for Rufforth after pilaging a restaurant for cheese and tomato sandwiches to take away. We eat in a field near the rather bleak-looking airport. MM produces the wine out of his car boot - a very middle class tradition indeed - but Dave thinks it tastes like old vinegar.

Even later:watch stock car racing until nearly 7.30. Very exciting. But it is rather cold and wet after 6. A bombastic woman knocked Dave's car door several times and he stuck two fingers up at her - very unusual for Dave.

Go into York and have a meal on the riverside. MM suggests that we go to the 'Tavern in the Town' - very nice, but several soldiers are carrying on very strangely - they must have been queers. One does find a lot of homosexuals in the armed forces. Hardly surprising really.

Amusing journey home. Back at Pine Tops by 11.55. John came home with Marita and Christine W. Can it be wedding bells for baby brother?

--==--

20090421

Tuesday July 3, 1973

Benton Park is terrible without June. Spent the whole day doing absolutely nothing. I can hardly wait to start my job with the council - and all those evenings absolutely free!

The weather is very changeable, but who cares? Where I'm going next week I don't care if monsoons sweep across Yorkshire.

At 7 o'clock go down to the Chuck Wagon - see the new chef - and after being told that he was a queer I imagined to behold some gigantic fairy, prancing from griddle to sink. He didn't look odd at all! In fact, he seemed quite a good sort of bloke really. Work until nearly 1. Read Prince Philip's biography and come to bed at 1.35. Before retiring, I write a letter to June.

--==--

Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...