Showing posts with label leeds united. Show all posts
Showing posts with label leeds united. Show all posts

20190618

Wednesday August 29, 1979

_. Warm and sunny. We chopped down the hideous lilacs in the garden and watch the suffocating conifers breathe a sigh of relief. Dad loves nothing more than hacking away in the undergrowth. He has several very 'Yorkshire Ripper-like' instruments, varying from heavy hammers, to butchery utensils and the usual tools associated with a journeyman joiner. Although I consider myself a tree conservationist I am happy with the result.

Went to the YP at 5pm. Had mounds of filing to do. Saw Charles who didn't seem too bad after the orgy last night. I do not envy him going off to Borneo with Linda Shaw. The YP was a waste of time.

Home in a taxi at 12. The driver was insignificant and lacking in colour. Obviously Jewish and addicted to tobacco. We discussed the weather and the current performance of Leeds United, which left me as cold as Karl Marx. I don't give a damn about Ray Hankin or John Hawley, or whether Adamson should sell them or not.

-=-

20120812

Friday August 26, 1977

Martyn and I paid a visit to Tony at Bradford Royal Infirmary this evening. The place stank of disease and rotting flesh and made me feel positively flat, but otherwise it was a joyful 45 minutes. We were joined at the hospital by Barry, Wendy, Anne, Georgina and other Smith vassals. We polished off Tony's grapes, Kit Kats and Bourbon biscuits.

Mum: Plantagenet blood.
At 8.30 Martyn, the ladies and I went on to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton. It was the usual tight squeeze but we had a laughable time. However, at 10.55 when Martyn and I went out for a bus our laughter turned to grimaces of devastation and horror. It was like the Nazi invasion of Czechoslovakia and the defeat of Leeds United by Sunderland at Wembley in 1973 all rolled into one. Precisely, no bus was to be had whatsoever. We legged it to Shipley and then paid £1 to a sombre taxi driver to bring us to Guiseley. Had an exchange of 'words' with Mum in her boudoir. She objects to Martyn using our home like a hotel. Mummy takes on an extremely fiery  and war-like countenance at times which I can only put down to the hot, Plantagenet blood in her veins. Blimey, when your great-uncle started the Wars of the Roses, a bit of aggression is bound to rub off isn't it?


20110121

Sunday June 6, 1976


Whit Sunday. Wake up at 10 o'clock and have a pint of orange juice in bed with the Sunday Express and the Sunday Mirror. The news content in these great newspapers is so exciting that I fall into a state of unconsciousness until 1 o'clock. Leap out of bed and ring Lynne. She is in good spirits and holds no grudges about refusing to let her bring me home at 3.30am. I refuse to have women travelling about at the crack of dawn at my beck and call. She says Peter's been ill all night and he comes on the line to tell me it must have been the food he ate. I agree because Peter never drinks vast amounts of alcohol.

Mum and Lynn are on the lawn and I go outside to investigate. It is very warm and pleasant and I join them in deckchairs and devour cheese and biscuits.

Lynne comes round at 2 o'clock and the two of us go to the Old Ball cricket ground to see the Evening Post All-Stars play cricket. Norman Hunter (ex Leeds Utd) is there and a few Yorkshire cricketers play, but after half an hour we tire of it. We don't like watching the cricket and are too afraid to lie down in the sun. A cricket ball in the back of the throat isn't something I rellish. Lynne suggests going to Bolton Abbey but we decide it will be too busy. She then suggests going down to the river at Arthington for the afternoon and who am I to disagree? We spend a couple of hours on a sandy beach-like bank on the Wharfe. A fantastic, tranquil afternoon, and I feel ashamed that I ever finished with Lynne in the first place. She looks so sophisticated with her hair in a bun and wearing large sun-glasses. In fact she's beautiful. I kept looking at her and smiling broadly as we were driving along _______________. It was such a relief to be able to share a joke with a girl of some intelligence. Carole was always so dull and half-witted. She brings me home at 5.30 and I see Ernest Blackwell watching us as we kiss in the car. I say I will ring her during the week when I have found some money and she smiles sweetly. God. I've only been on the open market since May 4, and already I'm getting involved. Am I mad?

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20100325

Wednesday May 28, 1975


A right Royal Day today. I arrived at work to find a photo of the bearded Prince of Wales on my desk, and I was startled to see how much he looked like a young King George V. Without further ado I delved into the picture archives and emerged with a photo of George V, suitably bearded of course. The resemblance is remarkable and I realised immediately that this would be a good idea for a story. 'People' the YP diary is an obvious place for such an article. However, my labours are in vain, and every time I attempt to pass on my ideas they are shouted down and ridiculed. By lunchtime I have given up hope. However, at 3 I was approached by Chris Dawson with a request for pictures of ALL the bearded monarchs of England. 'Hell', I thought, 'how many Kings of England have been bearded. Let's solve this by a process of elimination.' George VI and Edward VIII were clean shaven, and so was Queen Victoria. King Edward VII and King George V were proud beard owners, and none of the first four Georges had one. Queen Anne didn't have one, and William and Mary couldn't grow a beard between them. So, in one way or another the throne of Great Britain was beardless between 1649 and 1901. Henry VIII and poor Charles I were reasonably endowed with facial hair, but that's about all.

But alas, and alack, no sooner had I suppled Chris Dawson with images of bearded kings that I receive news of horrific consequence. Carol is shouting something like: 'He's shaved it off! He's shaved it off!' Indeed, the prince has succumbed to the razor. Carol was laughing hysterically. 'He's got a moustache now'.

The thought of searching for moustachioed monarchs didn't please me all that much. Poor Dawson returned to his desk, head bowed at the thought of losing a good story.

On my arriving home I look in at the 6 o'clock news and see the Prince of Wales endowed with a moustache dressed in robes of Grand Master of the Order of the Bath, and looking remarkably like the Prince Consort. However, I have made up my mind never to notice resemblances amongst members of the Royal Family again.

Home at 5.30 for tea and prepare to see Leeds United in the European Cup. Dave Baker joins us and we indulge in a few glasses of lager, ale, &c.

-==-

20090429

Saturday September 22, 1973

Get up at 11 o'clock. That nice fellow Captain Phillips celebrates his 25th birthday today. I suspect that His Grace will be a major-general before Christmas (joking really). But seriously, it must be a terrifying experience to know that one has a mere 8 weeks of sanity left. After November 14 he will cease to be a Wiltshire nonentity and assume the splendours of royalty.

At 1.30 we go to MMs and leave in the Datsun for Elland Road and Leeds United. George Best is missing from the Manchester United squad - he must still be undergoing strict training. Unfortunately, it is a 0-0 draw. Leeds were the better side throughout. MM is infuriated with the negative result. Brings me home in the rain. Mother and Father are visiting Uncle Bert and Auntie Jadwega in Nottingham.

I eat a massive amount of food and ring Chris at 7 o'clock. He and Marita have a date and are not coming out with us until later. Andy and Christine W are meeting John and I in the Yorkshire Rose between 8 and 8.30. What a rotten pub it is! Andy has been supping since 7.30. See Judith Rushworth, who I keep bumping into in weird places. What a laugh she is! At 9.10 Andy and I go to the Thistle Wines and buy 8 pints of beer and 4 lager. We get on the 9.20 55 bus with John and Christine W. We have a laugh with the bus conductor - who always jokes with Andy. Back at Pine Tops at 9.40. Christine White's first visit to Pine Tops. Play records and sup ale. Chris and Marita arrive at 11 o'clock. They had been to Dick Hudson's - a horrid tip. Lynn and Sue arrive home at 1.0 and the party goes on until 2.30. Aren't we having a gay time lately?

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Friday September 21, 1973

Groves today discovered that I do not wish to go to college next year. Christine told him in Current Affairs - which seems and appropriate time and place to tell him - but I was so surprised by Christine leaking my news that I had no satisfactory explanation for him. He was not upset and wants only what is best for me.

MM wants to know what is happening this evening. It's all in the air. Christine wants me to go out with a certain Helen Taylor, from the lower 6th. The poor girl fancies me, so I'm told. I cannot go out with any girl so soon after my broken affair with June - my only love. MM even offers me the keys to his house for tomorrow night so that I can take HT back there. I decline. However, I did accept his offer of a seat in the west stand at Leeds United. How could I refuse such hospitality?

Chris rings at 7 and says that Marita and he are going to the Tudor Bar at Burley. I ring Dave and he takes John and me. MM, Linda S, and Christine W also arrive. A very pleasant evening. We decide to go to the Pentagon in Bradford, but MM, Linda, Christine and Dave go home, leaving the five of us to fit into Marita's car. We all sit in the back singing 'Glory, Glory, Leeds United' - Andy wearing Marita's tin helmet. We stop off at our house so that I can put on a tie, and everyone settles down in our comfortable lounge and we remain there until nearly 2 o'clock. Playing records - yet again.

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20090427

Saturday September 8, 1973

John and I go to Bradford in the morning and he buys the LP 'Never a Dull Moment' by Rod Stewart. The day is very hot and Bradford is sweltering. Rush home for lunch.

At 1.15 John and I walk down to Silverdale where Geoff Saxton gives us a lift to watch Leeds United play Birmingham. A 3-0 victory for the boys! We go immediately to Chris's and let ourselves in whilst he's at work. He is home by 6.15 and we have a meal together. Andy joins us at 8 and we all have very large Bacardis. When Marita arrives at 8.30 we are well on the way to getting drunk. Chris drinks his in the bath. John, Andy and me move on to the Fleece 8.45 where the rest of the gang awaits our triumphal arrival.

Later: the party at the Ratcliffe residence begins at 10.30. Andy and I are stoned already. We make a few practical jokes and Linda throws his clothes out of the bedroom window. Dave got drunk tonight for the first time in his life! He, along with Christine and Philip, played strip pontoon in the lounge. Philip had his trousers off before even his shirt. Why? Why? Wh? I ask myself.

At 3.30 Andy, Chris and me walked to Grandways for twenty cigarettes. We finished up dancing in the large concrete flower pots outside one of the shops. At 4.0 everyone went to bed leaving me with a Tamla Motown LP -what a terrible effect it had on me.

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20090415

Saturday May 5, 1973

John gets up at 6.00 and goes to Wembley with Geoff Saxton. Yes, the day has come. Leeds United are playing Sunderland in the FA Cup Final today. How can Leeds loose? Sunderland, a second division team, have only played at Wembley once before, way back in 1937. Watch the build up to the kick off from 10.30.

Mum and Dad go shopping a buy a few large cans of ale. Bill Stott rings up at 2.15 and asks if he can come round to see the final on our colour tv, which, incidentally, is one year old today. Mum is furious when Dad says yes to him. When he does come he turns up with his father-in-law - both nice blokes really. Kick off at 3. The Duke and Duchess of Kent in the royal box. At half-time Sunderland was winning 1-0. We all seemed to take it for granted that Leeds would snatch two goals in the second half. Full-time: Sunderland wins 1-0. We are all stunned. Poor John, going all that way to see his idols defeated! Geoff Saxton will no doubt commit suicide. Tragedy!

Go to the CW. Sue and Toffer didn't even watch the match. She said I was a baby for saying I "felt sick inside" when contemplating the defeat. Pauline came in at about 7.10. She says she was on Sunderland's side throughout. Later on in the evening she promised to 'rape' me when I had finished doing the washing up. Not a very hectic evening. Toffer brought me home, un-raped, at 1.15 after sitting with some beers for an hour. Working again tomorrow. Fool, Michael. You bloody fool!

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20090328

Saturday March 10, 1973

The Queen's youngest child, Prince Edward, is 9 years old today. A very beautiful, clear, crisp, bird-singing, lung clearing morning! Got up at 10.10. Dad went to work at 11. I decided to go with John to see Leeds United play Everton at Elland Road. John couldn't believe it. I've only been 3 times before with him.

I spent an hour in the garden pruning the roses and then had lunch at 12 which consisted of pancakes which I should have devoured last Tuesday, but Mum had forgotten it was Shrove Tuesday.

At 12.30 Mum and Susan went down the lane to meet Lynn from work and go straight to Bradford for a shopping spree. At 1.15 John I went down to Silverdale Rd to get a lift to Leeds from Geoff Saxton - and we sat with Kathryn and Margaret until he was ready to go at 1.50.
John and I went into the cheap stand at Leeds Utd paying 50p each - phew! I thoroughly enjoyed the match, Leeds winning 2-1. I stood next to a drunk who was shouting: "West Brom for Kings!" If would not have been so funny if Leeds had not been playing Everton! We were home at 5.40 just in time to see 'Dr Who'. Mum and the girls came in ten minutes later. There had been a bomb scare in Darley Street and they had been evacuated out of a shop. Mum came home with something for a change.

At 6.45 set off to work. It was not really busy until 9.30. What a rush! Pauline seems to have recovered from her mad passion for me which is a great relief. We sat with a couple of beers each until nearly 1.30. Toffer brought me home. Everyone asleep in bed. Good night all! Excuse the blob! (Splodge of ink between paragraphs above).

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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...