Monday September 12, 1977

A ghastly day. Staggered to work feeling like Anne Boleyn must have felt after her tragic loss. Lady Jane Grey too, and Lord Haw Haw. Yes, my head was far from well. Abominable is a far too mild an adjective to use. By 12 noon I was moaning, yawning and close to tears. I phoned Tony who was also very close to death. I informed him that I could stand no more and on putting down the receiver I lost consciousness and fell crashing to the floor from my desk. Some amiable editor must have carried me from the building and placed me on an omnibus because I regained consciousness somewhere in the Guiseley area at about 1pm.

Luncheon was also a great strain and afterwards I fell from the table and into bed. You'll be pleased to know that by tea time I was more or less back to normal. Oh what a time. As I grow older my hangovers get steadily worse. By the time I'm 25 I shall be paying regular visits to one of those rehabilitation centres. You may laugh, but it's true.

Autumn: nationalised?

Some of that famous glint came back to my sad old eyes at 7.30 when 'Coronation Street' came on the television. It's programmes like this that make life so well worth living, folks.

Nothing much more to say, playmates. Have you enjoyed reading this page? Good. September is always such a nice month, don't you think? Or have the authorities in your era scrapped the old months system? Well, it wouldn't surprise me if they have nationalised autumn.

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Friday August 20, 1976

Mum and Dad go up to see Uncle Harry for the weekend. Lynn and David are entertaining Alison and her man friend, and Lynne and I arrange to meet Sarah and Peter [Baker]. Lynne comes over at 7.30 - 8 o'clock and we drive to Follifoot where we sit outside the Lascelles Arms sipping lager & watching the sunset. How romantic!
But then Lynne just about smashed my teeth out after almost knocking my glass down my throat[accidentally] and then spilt cider over my trousers. Sarah and Peter arrive and we move inside for a further couple of rounds. Lynne doesn't seem to take exception to Peter's eccentricities,and they hit it off quite nicely. We go on to the Damn Yankee in Harrogate where I have one of those enormous pizzas again. A great meal. Back to our place for coffee. Drink lime juice. We called at Ty-Gwyn to inspect the old place on the way home. Sit in the dining room and have hysterics at Peter's recital of bits from last night's Evening Post. A misprint proclaimed 'Lord Haw Haw Haw Haw re-buried'. William Joyce wouldn't be amused I'm sure. Two Haws too many. We roared with laughter. We also had fun with the alabaster elephant in the dining room. But the less said about that the better. They all departed at 1am. I passed a pleasant night sleeping on the settee.

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