Sunday December 25, 1977

Christmas Day. Santa Claus and all that. Merry Christmas to you all! Up at approx. 10:00am to open my presents. The bulk of my gifts consist of underpants and socks. I don't care.

John, Maria and JPH came at 2 and stayed until 4. JPH was bewildered by all the fuss and wept towards the end. Poor soul. Gt-Auntie Annie and Gt-Uncle John Kirk came for ten minutes (visiting son Raymond on Southway). I gave them the photographs I took on Dec 14.

Helen Mirren.

We eventually dined in great style at 5:00pm. Feeling bloated some 90 minutes later, and whilst everyone else slept, I decided on the novel idea of gluing photographs in a new photo album. A strange Christmas pastime probably, but anything is better than the Moscow State Circus and Angela Rippon on the TV.

Julie Ege.

TR7

This evening I sat drinking shandy by the TV set. A couple of boring films later I retired to bed bearing my pile of items of male underwear. Ah well, you can't win 'em all, Michael. Perhaps next year I'll get the TR7 and a night out with Helen Mirren and Julie Ege. Merry Christmas!

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Wednesday December 14, 1977

_Went with Mum and Dad into the depths of Leeds to see Great Aunt Annie (Kirk), my grandmother Rhodes's sister. Uncle John, at the door, wouldn't let us in, and shouted through the letter box: 'Come back nearer Christmas!' They thought we were Carol singers. She was thrilled to see us and told us tales of hilarity about her father, Charlie Henty. Henty, a jockey, married Polly Upton, my great-grandmother, some years after the birth of my grandmother. My grandmother's father is an unknown quantity, if you get my meaning. It seems that Charlie broke both ankles in a pre-1914 Grand National. How intriguing.

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Monday December 2, 1974

A lovely drunken day. At lunchtime Dave suggests that we, and some others, should go to a pub which is about 2 miles along the River Severn, walking there of course. Dave, Mike Jenns, John Lessor, John Kirk and I go. To our horror we discover on our arrival the bakers' are preventing our consumption of sandwiches, due to the silly strike they're having. We struggle to survive on bags of crisps and Mars bars. Play darts until after 3, and drinks lots of home brewed cider. Coming back is a good deal more difficult. The mud seems twice as deep, and so does the river. Dave starts a friendly fight with John Kirk and it degenerates into a filthy mud bath and we all arrive back at college in a filthy, muddy state. I bring back a massive branch of mistletoe, which causes soemthing of a sensation in the female channels of the college.

After tea Wizard reads my fortune in some cards he frequently dabbles with. I agree with Barbara when she says that Wizard pretends he knows more about the cards than he says, when in fact he knows no more than we do! Oh God! I don't want to write any more. I never liked doing this anyway. I always wanted to be a gynaecologist.

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