Tuesday May 24, 1977

Phoned Carole this morning to arrange Thursday night's meeting. Yes, it's Oakwood Hall, folks. She has not much to say other than she plans to wear the white creation with rope and other ornaments hanging from it - the one she wore one evening last June - when I asked her why she couldn't afford a proper belt. She always calls me 'Pet'.

Bananas: grow upwards

At 7pm I go to John & Maria's with a bunch of photographs that arrived this morning. Some excellent ones of JPH and my birthday 'freak out'. The baby won't sleep and the arrival of George (Waite), Jane, Molly and Jim doesn't help really. Molly walks in and goes off on a tangent about her recent Majorca holiday: "The cathedral at Palma was built in 1167 and it took four hundred years to complete and do you know bananas grow upwards? Because I always thought they hung downwards, like that, and Oh the food was first class, and we had lobster one night for an extra £2.67 which was really good compared with other hotels around because a nice girl we met from Manchester couldn't touch the meals served in her hotel, mind you she went with Thomson's who are usually very good and Oh the Caves of Drach were marvellous but the coach there was a bit on the long side and we didn't really like the wine bodegas like you would it's Jim's stomach you know....."  Just a sample of the great Molly for you. Jim gives me a lift home at 9.30.

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Monday May 23, 1977

Dull, overcast day. The YP wasn't in any way exciting and so I won't bother you with any of the miserable details.

At tea time I see Mum and Dad for the first time since Saturday morning. She went to Molly & Jim's last night to meet Hugh. They are full of tales of JPH and go into raptures about his overnight stay at Pine Tops on Saturday night.

Just watch soddin' TV in the evening. Feature film 'One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich' based on the book by Solzenhitsyn - and not a very pleasant day for Ivan either. All it was really was some poor buggers digging holes in sub zero temperatures and eating fish heads and rabbit entrails.

The Prince of Wales was invested with the Order of the Thistle in Edinburgh this morning and I suspect that the Queen and the Queen Mother won't be feeling all that happy because BOTH their detectives, Sir Edward Perkins, KCVO and Chief Supt Sumner, have dropped dead on the Scottish visit over the weekend. A bit too much of a coincidence I fear.

Lynn is enjoying things at the Hare & Hounds, but I'm determined to avoid the place. It's been three weeks now and I haven't missed it, or any of it's inmates. A complete change was what I needed and I am enjoying it thoroughly.

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Wednesday January 12, 1977

Miss Braithwaite, or 'CB'.

Have a damnable headache but I'm not sure it's a hangover. Blimey, did I have all that lqiuid refreshment last night? No, I didn't. Out tonight with Miss Christine Braithwaite, spinster of the parish of Horsforth. But first, a family gathering. I went to John and Maria's at 5.30 to find Maria dashing off to a recital, and Molly and Jim were just arriving too. John, Molly, Jim and I have tea together whilst baby JPH gurgles and vomits on the settee. The little fellow is becoming heavy. Jim brings me up home at 8, and by 8.35 I'm down Thorpe Lane and lodged in the Hare. CB and I have one drink and then go to Neville's [Ilkley] for a bottle of wine and then the Fish Dish for one of each. CB tells me a tale of woe indeed. What a changed person she is. She's not drinking to excess any more and has a much 'quieter' outlook. She was quite ill before Christmas and the sordid New Year hasn't helped at all. She is a great friend. CB could never be anything else. However, I fear she's obsessed with death. She kept saying she has a feeling inside that she won't 'be around' [i.e. alive] next Christmas! What an awful thing? I couldn't stand life without CB to make me laugh. She says that she won't look at a man again unless his pockets are crammed with cash, has a villa in Capri and an E-type Jag parked on his Georgian-style driveway. God Almighty! -==-

Wednesday October 6, 1976

Good Old Uncle Harry's birthday [54th]. Take my umberella with me to Leeds this morning and, quite naturally, this particular region of the British Isles sees temperatures in the mid-nineties. Not a drop of rain to be felt within 48 million miles of my soddin' umberella.

See in the late editions of the EP that Margaret Hilda Thatcher attended the memorial service for the late Sir Edward Heath, thus ending months of speculation that at the time of the former PM's death the pair were not on the best of terms. Margaret Hilda really should have Sir Edward stuffed, mounted and placed on castors so that she can wheel the old gent onto the platform at the party conference each year. Votes would pour in.

Take the bear round to John's at 6 o'clock with Mum. See JPH and actually hold him in my arms. He's absolutely gorgeous. Mum cannot take her eyes off him. He was more interested in sucking his clothes and even thought Mum's ear was a source of nourishment. Maria looked a little pale. Didn't see much of John. Molly was full of cold, and so was Jim. Home at 7 o'clock for dinner and then it's decorating the hall and landing until 11.45pm. Believe it or not, I quite enjoy daubing paint on doors, walls and banisters, &c. So rewarding to stand back when it's all completed knowing you are responsible for the whole bloody lot.

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Friday January 9, 1976

Something's happened to Carole. Yesterday everything was loveliness and rosy, but today I detect a marked change in her attitude.

She went round to Maria's straight from work. I was summoned to Ridgeway at 8 o'clock and walked in to find a conference drawing to a close. The girls and Mr Macdonald had been nattering about something and Carole was exceptionally cold and disinterested.

We caught the bus to the Hare, and if David hadn't been in it would have been unbearable.

We moved on to the Black Bull in Otley and then called in at the Junction, which is up for sale and under Mum and Dad's scrutiny. The place is an absolute wreck but could be made nice if a couple of million quid was to be lavished upon it.

Carole was acting like a moron and when everyone asked her what was wrong she replied that nothing was wrong.

At 11pm David was feeling hungry and so we all went to Headingley for a bit of something to eat. Carole's silence continued, and I was getting sick of it.

We all came back for coffee and Carole, as you've probably gathered by now, was the typical little chatter-box and life and soul of the party. Dave B took her home at about 12.30 which left David, Dad and me talking about capital punishment and the rest of the current debate points until after 2am. When Dad went up to bed Dave sat for a while and said, quite seriously, that Papa is the greatest speaker he's ever heard. Coming from David that certainly is a great complement.

David left at 2.30 and we think we're going to Oakwood Hall tomorrow - that's if Carole will lower herself to mutter a 'yes' or a 'no'.

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Sunday November 30, 1975

Advent Sunday. St Andrew's Day. Wake up feeling quite normal considering the amount of alcohol I consumed at the Minstrel's Gallery.

Carole rings me from Maria's to say they are going to church this afternoon and 'do you mind if I don't see you until teatime?' I say I'll just about survive (God knows how) and return to the lounge to discuss food with Lynn and Dave. We are all on the verge of starvation and the aroma of Mum's cooking doesn't help much.

Marlene, Frank and the children come round at 2 for lunch and because of the large numbers involved we have to have two sittings in the dining room. I am on second sitting with John, Lynn, Sue, Dave and Pete.

I spend the afternoon playing a chess-like game with Frank. Really cosy it was too,and made such a change from the usual Sunday afternoon activities. Frank was clad in pink socks, orange and green checked trousers, a white shirt with black men all over it, a lime green and blue striped tank top, and a repulsive vomit coloured tie. However, I do suppose that one goes through a phase like this when one hits 30. Funny really.

The Harwoods go at 5.30 and John and I are summoned to the Macdonald residence. Mr & Mrs Mac are keeping vigil around grandfather's hospital bed but hope is fading fast. They look at his possible passing quite objectively though. I suppose to Roman Catholics death is like going on holiday.

After an hour at the Macdonald stately pile I leave, for health reasons, with Carole in the direction of home. We watch television, and that's about it really. Nothing thrilling or outrageous. Just the days events as seen through the eyes of a raving lunatic called Michael Rhodes.

NEWS: Graham Hill, the racing driver, was killed in a plane crash last night. Now I'll just go upstairs and lay down.

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Saturday October 4, 1975

Nearly 1pm when I finally raised my weary head from the sheets. John is plodding around in the bedroom saying he's been at work all morning and calling me lazy this, lazy that and lazy the other.

Lynn and CD go into town , and I sit about waiting for Carole to ring me. She rings from 'George's' at about 3pm and orders me to go round with a pile of LPs and the Martin book on the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. I walk round in the rain half an hour later. John is of course with Maria (from now on I'll stop using the name 'George' when refering to Maria Macdonald. It's a childish practice dating back 5 years, and not a bit complementary to the young lady in question). They creep off upstairs some ten minutes after I arrive.

Carole and I pass a romantic afternoon alone, and we play 'Kimono my house' the LP by Sparks. She sews up the bottom of my jeans - whilst I am still wearing them - but whilst she's doing it I notice a change in her. The poor thing went very quiet, and looked really ill. I sat with my arms round her and she told me that one of her headaches had come on again. I told her to go to bed, and insist on my staying in with her for the evening, but she wouldn't hear of it. She came to the Hare & Hounds and I told her I'd willingly stay at home with her. Women! But at 10pm her head cleared and she laughed for the first time today. I didn't realise just how much I depend on her to keep me cheery. All the others wanted to go to the Cow & Calf, but Carole, Sue, Pete N and me decided to go back to Maria's for the night. Mr & Mrs Macdonald are in Cardiff or somewhere. So only the four of us were in until John and Maria come back at 2.30am.

Sue and Peter were alseep on the settee for the last hour whilst we played records. Home at 4am after coffee.

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