Monday January 15, 1979

Will Margaret Hilda (Thatcher) ever become prime minister of these crumbling, desperate islands? I have a quaking, nasty feeling of nausea about the whole subject of the next general election. Do I forsee yet another feeble minority Labour government taking us through to the mid 1980s? Please, Oh please God, spare us this horror!

Another one of those Spencer girls has been spotted in the royal circle. Lady Diana Spencer, 17, is now at Sandringham with her elder sister, Lady Sarah, and both have been out shooting with the Prince of Wales. Lady Diana was born in 1961 and I can't help thinking that our future Queen consort is going to be a child of the 1960s. The Prince of Wales cannot marry someone thirty years old because her child~bearing days (or perhaps years) can be numbered on one hand. So, in the next couple of years a batch of females in their early 20s will have to be taken into consideration. All very exciting, isn't it?



I have decided that Peter Nason's beard is a perfect addition to his face. His features were too elongated, and now you can't see 'em for hair. The facial hair makes him look older too. He's been in a cheerful, almost elated mood recently. What can it be?

Watched TV until the set nearly exploded from the heat. A Charles Bronson film on BBC2, and of course a repeat of a 1972 edition of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Bed after 12 and read 'Confessions of a Private Soldier'. Blimey, anything is better than the Crossman diaries.

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Monday December 11, 1978

Wedwood Benn: future prime minister

I am very worried about Anthony Wedgwood Benn. The Daily Mail seems to think that this man is a future Prime Minister and this really worries me ~ especially at breakfast time when I am inclined to fits of morose depression. I left for the YP with a black cloud hanging over me. What's the bloody point in carrying on when communism, decay and drab uniformity lie at the end of life's sombre pathway?

Rang Janet at WH Smith's and told her to go ahead for the booking of the Ibiza '79 holiday. At lunch I dashed to the closest travel agent and picked up a Thomson's brochure to look at the Hotel Galfi. It seems quite nice. It only has 40 bedrooms. Phoned Dave G tonight. We laughed. After two hours at the Galfi everyone will know us intimately. He's going to see Garry later. Bill is dead chuffed about the whole business. The nasty part about it is that Smith's want a £20 deposit from all of us by the weekend. I collected some coach tour brochures for Mum and she fancies a trip to Yugoslavia next June as part of her Silver Wedding celebrations. Disgraceful that she wants to spend a holiday in the Eastern bloc alliance. It is no idea of fun to me. I suppose Mr Benn and his leftie pals from the House of Commons spend holidays in the Warsaw Pact countries, but Michael Rhodes never shall. President Tito can go piss off.

Saw Monty Python on the BBC followed by a Jane Fonda film. To bed hideously tired at 12:30.

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Monday October 30, 1978

At work Jacq phoned and wanted to know how to spell 'horrendous'. Is she perhaps writing about our relationship?

I phoned Christine and told her that she must come to Oakwood Hall on Thursday. She agreed, but I always live in fear of a cancellation because her social diary is very packed and running wild these days. She told me she was out with Philip Knowles on Friday. Bless them. We remarked how long it was since we were last out together ~ just the two of us. It will be a good laugh if Gus and Co join us at Oakwood because they go insane with typical 20~year~old spasms at the sight of anything remotely female, and Christine is certainly very, very female.

To be honest I'm feeling miserable.Every once in a while I go through a phase of critical re~assessment and sit pondering on why we are here. The human race that is. Come on, who would care if Michael Lawrence Rhodes was swallowed up by some over~active peat bog on All Hallows' Eve, 1978? My dear old Mum would probably notice I'd gone, but ex~President Podgorny of the U.S.S.R and Dame Anna Neagle wouldn't give a damn.

Saw Monty Python tonight ~ a repeat of the 1969 series, but good all the same. Afterwards watched Spike Milligan's 'Adolf Hitler: My Part in his Downfall'. Spike only made a brief appearance which was sad. At 11pm I sloped off to bed.

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Monday May 16, 1977

Down the lane with a Spring feeling. For some reason my coiffure is standing on end reminiscent of a good old lavatory brush. Go to my hair stylist and emerge 45 minutes later having waved bye bye to about three quarters of a ton of glossy hair. No doubt the peasants have bagged it up and sold it on the Black Market for   huge sums. If they can do it with King Charles I's miserable, ginger stuff I fail to see why they can't do it with mine.

Home by 2 o'clock. Mum is flat out in bed with her back. She's in agony. Dr Jacques comes but he's more interested in my bloody cheeseburger.

Sue: reading about lice ..

Sue is revising for her hair dressing examination and is reading all about lice and other residents of the hairy regions.

Tony comes up at 3 and we go to Bradford and to (WH) Smith's. I hand over £568.28 to Michelle and I'm sure I've never held so much in my hands (that's money, you perverted fool). Accompany Tony to the Co-op where he attempts to rid himself of some of his wares and then it's back to Smith's where we meet Martyn at 4.45. M bought a new pair of shoes and I bought a large poster of the Queen, in Imperial state crown in the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace.

Martyn and Tony are playing golf at Ben Rhydding this evening. I don't want to go. Saw Spike Milligan on TV and Monty python repeats.

Mummy emerged from bed for a few hours but complained of constant pain. The doc has advised her to buy an orthopaedic bed at the earliest opportunity. Ate fish and chips and retired after 12.

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Monday April 25, 1977

A revolting day. Went to the office fully expecting a battle with Kathleen, over what I don't quite know, but to my great disappointment she is taking the day off.

Scargill: signed photograph

Sarah and I joined a trade union this afternoon. Yes, Jack Jones and that lot. A revolting thing for me to do in Silver Jubilee year but no one, and I mean no one, is going to cut my throat. I'm fully expecting a signed photograph from Mr & Mrs Arthur Scargill and red badge in tomorrow's post. I do feel somewhat restless as to what I'm going to say to the beloved chief (Kathleen) in the morning  but the main theme will be centred around the Friday night working - or lack if it.  I think I'll change the subject now, anyway.

Some boring oil rig has gone and sunk, I think. Billions of gallons of crude oil is giving Bridlington's director of tourism something of a headache. Black shit all over the beach cannot be a good advertisement, can it? I can't stand Bridlington anyway and besides, the cleansing of thousands of soggy seabirds will give the out of work landladies something worthwhile to do.

Read more of the 'Dear Letters' and watched a play on TV. Nothing more startling. Spike Milligan was on followed by repeats of 1969 Monty Python. Bloody hilarious they are - so good to see good comedy for a change. Better than all that 'My Neighbour Next Door' shit and 'Never Mind the Quality Feel the Tit'.

Bed at 11.05 with 'Dear Letters'. Looking forward like Mr Churchill did on the eve of Dunkirk to sticking one over on Kathleen tomorrow. Let not victory be denied ...


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Saturday November 13, 1976

Miss Mandy Phillips

Oh God. What a hangover. Tony's on the phone at 10am and wakes me. Says he's coming over later. I stagger about the house doing my best to make myself look normal when John, Maria and John Jun arrived at 12.30. The infant is growing more beautiful every day and is much stronger. He's smiling more as well. Tony comes at 1 o'clock and he takes me down to Bradford in the car. I'm feeling really ill. We go through a car wash and in order to cheer me up he tapes the proceedings. Yes, we are raving lunatics. Go into WH [Smiths] and see Denise for the first time in months. She promises to come up tomorrow. She and Tony didn't seem at all antagonistic towards each other. Back home at 3. I nursed the baby for an hour or so until I began to feel better. Ring Lynne and speak to Peter M too. Martyn rings me and we arrange tonight's session.

To Ilkley with Tony at 8.30. Collect Martyn and then Stuart. Up to the Craven Heifer [Addingham] and then on to Bingley where we pick up a couple of girls. Miss Mandy Phillips, of Thornbury, Pudsey, and another girl, Margaret, whom we decide to call Heidi because of her Tyrolean dress. On to Oakwood Hall where more pilage, plunder and rape took place. Didn't get in the state I was in last night however. Back home to Pine Tops at 2.30 and entertained the lads for more than an hour. Laughed like Hell at the 'Excuse me, Miss' track on the Monty Python [Live at Drury Lane] LP. It really does work wonders. Bed after cheese on toast. Goodnight.

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Thursday June 24, 1976

Carole rang me at work to wish me a nice holiday and she tells me she is going to live in London and get a job down there within the next few weeks and that I'll never see her again. Both Peter and Chris have seen her and Denise with Chris Denby - so I think poor Carole is just inventing stories about seeking her fortune in London to get on my tits.

John comes at 8.30 and we watch 'Monty Python' for the last time. At 9 the two of us go to the Hare for a quick one and he brings Maria down at 9.15. Mum and Dad come in at 10 o'clock and the five of us have a pleasant family 'piss-up' - excuse the crudeness today, but we all have these moments don't we?

Mum and Maria are getting along like a house on fire. __________________. John was saying that the house is just about ready although they don't want to move in before August. They'll definately be in before baby arrives.

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Thursday May 27, 1976

To Oakwood Hall with Tony and his friend Stuart (Walker), who is manager of the Ilkley branch of W.H. Smith. Have a good night._________________________. Stuart is a nice lad.

Back to our place at 1.30am for coffee and 'Monty Python Live at Drury Lane'. We're out on Friday night too. It will make a change from the usual meeting of 'Wrist Slashers Anonymous' at the Hare.

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Tuesday February 3, 1976

Busy day at work. Kathleen gets on my nerves at times. She fusses over such ridiculous things. Frustrated - that's what she is. A man would do her the world of good. Maybe a little crude, but true.

Sarah says Delia is planning for the day when I move into her place as a lodger. I thought they were having me on about this, but I actually think they would like me to stay there Monday-Friday when Mum & Dad go to Kirby Malzeard. That's if they ever do go to the Henry Jenkins Inn.

Carole rings this evening - 8.50 actually. She has one of her headaches. These crop up every couple of months or so. I can't figure it out how they keep recurring.

George Waite calls in to see John & is surprised to hear that J is going to beat him to the altar. George is getting married on June 19.

See "Fawlty Towers" starring John Cleese which is fantastically funny. Much better than 'Monty Python' because it's much more mature.

This Jeremy Thorpe affair makes me laugh. I'll write more on the subject later, but you mark my words when I say Jeremy is more involved than he cares to admit. Much, much more.

Bed at about 11.30.



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Monday June 2, 1975

Holiday in Irish Republic. Last night was hilarious really. After arguing with CB about Gary and telling her of my own experience with June, we are caught almost 'red handed' sitting on top of one another in a corner by none other than Gary himself. Christine and he exchanged words and he left 10 minutes later to 'have an early night'. He doesn't love herat all and it pains me to see her virtually throwing herself at him. However, after my own experiences with JB I don't have a leg to stand on. I threw myself at her for two years without receiving anything back whatsoever!! CB isn't as mad to do a thing like that (I hope).

Worry all day about John. What with unemployment being the way it is at the moment I'm a bit dubious about whether he'll find anything easily. The poor devil looks really cheesed off.

Quiet day at the YP. Sarah is on holiday until next Monday and so the office isn't all that happy. Miss Collis brightens the place up no end.

It snowed in certain parts of England today, and in Essex snow stopped the county cricket match! The Second of bloody June and we have weather not fit for February.

CB rang to say she accidentally left the Monty Python book in the phone box last night. I had to laugh because she's been chasing after the damned thing since January.

I rang Marita to let her know I was still alive. Received a letter from David today.

-==-

Thursday February 20, 1975

Eileen and I go to the Central for lunch again. I say 'again' because we did the same thing last Thursday, but that seems to have been missed from these historic pages. Swill down a few pints of lager before moving reluctantly back to the YP.

Chaos reigned this morning. Evidently, the Dowager Lady Mowbray, Segrave & Stourton saw fit to do herself in last night, and alas, no photos of the obscure, highly neglected lady are to be found in our files. The newsdesk and Donald Futrell went berserk, but calmness was dispersed by our beloved leader, Miss Rainford.

Us librarians are getting sick of the quiet and the cold, which we are forced to endure while workmen install new air conditioning in the press hall. Will we survive until May. Wait and see.

At 8.30 John and I go to Gillian's for a beer and record session (nothing else either). Have one glass of Dad's home brew concoction, then decide not to bother with any more. Listen to the Monty Python LP (mine) and a bit of Bowie's 'Diamond Dogs'. Gillian gets even worse, and I'm going to have to make it clear that a) I'm not going to sleep with her, and b) marry her, or c) buy her the Smirnoff Vodka Company. Home at 12 feeling horribly tired, or incredibly bored. I expect it was the latter disease.

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Saturday January 18, 1975

Wake up just after 10am. Christine says that Marita and I were talking in our sleep. People always say I yell and carry on like a madman in my sleep. Some Psycological reason I suppose.

Spend five and a half ruddy hours in a Sheffield Shopping Centre! Nearly went round the bend watching MM and Marita trying on shoes and buying the nicest lettuces in the market, and spending hour after hour in dark, body odour-smelling, music filled boutiques trying on velvet jackets you'll know they'll never buy. Oh, and Marita wants only lightweight shoes because she's going to Yugoslavia in September and it's always hot there isn't it? Christine and I nearly passed out.

We arrived home after 6. Christine and I are knackered to the core, but MM & Marita look quite normal. Salad for tea. Wear MM's duffle coat when we go to the pub - don't drink much and get back for about 11. Christine and I die laughing over a Monty Python book - a bottle of Martini helped too. The night was probably a bit more romantic as far as Christine and I are concerned. MM got up at 2am wearing Marita's nightie! God! How we laughed.

-==-

Sunday December 22, 1974

4th in Advent. Repulsive weather for the time of year. Brilliant sun shines down upon us, and if somebody was to tell me we are in the middle of August I would take the information without a query. Mr Baker collects Lynn at the early hour of 1pm and rushes her off her feet to the wilds of Otley Chevin. Peter pays court to Susan and then drags her back to his place for tea.

Mummy and Daddy are also restless this afternoon and they disappear too. This mass migration to other spheres leaves John and myself quite alone. See the TV. 'Captain Horatio Hornblower' a Gregory Peck film, then we listen to my Monty Python LP.

After a long bath with the backing of the Sold Gold 60 programme on the radio I ring Marita for a report on the weekend activities of the 'Jet Set'. They too have indulged in quiet activities this weekend, and she's near to hysterics when I tell her of yesterdays antics with the two Davids in Bradford. She loved the bit about the old lady in British Home Stores complaining to the staff about us handling the frilly knickers.

John and I see the play 'Crown Matrimonial', starring Greer Garson as Queen Mary, matriarch of the Royal House of Windsor, a bold and dedicated woman whom the present Queen closely resembles. The play was brilliant and the portrayal of all the characters was perfect.

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Thursday December 19, 1974

A more congenial day. Left the office with Sarah at 12 and we did a bit of shopping in town before going our separate ways. Funny girl is our Sarah. A perfect Angel but temperamental beyond human understanding.

I got myself a Monty Python LP, the one I heard in Worcester, and bought Dad's Xmas present - a Perry Como LP. Really should have stayed in Leeds to buy all my presents but couldn't be bothered at all. 

Nipped onto a bus and was home in time to see the final part of 'The Forsyte Saga'. I was quite emotional when Soames passed away at the end. Sat choked in a heap besides the lit Christmas tree.

David called for me at about 8.10 after queueing for a tank full of petrol before the 10p price increase at midnight. To the Stone Trough for one drink. MM, Marita and Denny were awaiting our arrival. Moved on to the school (Benton Park) at 8.30 where the lovely Christine Braithwaite joined us. What a bloody scorcher she is - and a good deal more mature than when I last saw her. Denny goes off with Martin Vere-Bujnowski all night and she barely said a full sentence to me._______.A good deal of kissing went on underneath the mistletoe. Kicked out at 11.30 and moved on to Denny's - that is David and me -where we laughed over supper until 1.30. Home in the car.

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Thursday December 12, 1974

Warmer day than yesterday and not too frosty. Work all morning until 12 and then go into Leeds with Kathleen where she buys a massive cardigan for her Dad's Christmas present. We then move on to Boots where she gives me some ideas about the numerous things I've got to get before Xmas Day. At 1 she leaves me to go back to work and I wind my way through Debenham's and back to Boots. Messing around near the aftershave department I bump into Marita & we mutter and moan about having to buy presents, and she slings a few suggestions at me. We then go into the street and bump into dear old Dave Baker outside Schofields. M rushes off back to work and Dave & I go to the Ostlers for a couple of drinks. We discuss Lynn over pints of lager. He tells me he's bought her a bottle of Pernod for Christmas, amongst other things. Another drunken festive season coming up. I buy Lynn a pair of slippers - not miserable granny type - but soft violet ones with large furry tops. Yes.

No Monty Python tonight which is rather unfortunate really.

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Thursday December 5, 1974

Busy day. The bloody telephone didn't cease ringing all day. Nothing of interest to say, but I must say something because it's hardly proper to leave blank pages when ones diary is to consitute a major contribution to the historical, social, and literary knowledge of this, the 20th century. OK, we all agree I'm no Samuel Pepys, or John Evelyn or even 'Chips' Channon, but what do you expect from a comprehensive school educated creature who never set foot in Harrow or had Princess Marina for a godmother?

See TV and Monty Python. Nothing of vital interest. So I'll be saying goodnight to you all. I write this journal as though I'm addressing a party of OAPs at the local Darby & Joan. But it's not my fault.

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Thursday November 21, 1974

Go into work at about 10 o'clock. I absolutely refuse to go in at 9 when I've worked until midnight. Kathleen's half day. Home at the usual hour and see the TV all evening. Monty Python was especially hilarious, but I am sobered by the 10 o'clock news bulletin which reveals dastardly news from Birmingham. The IRA have killed nearly 20 people and have wounded 200 by blowing up two pubs in the centre of Birmingham. The bloody swines who have done such a thing do not deserve to live. I realise that the death penalty is a rather pagan institution for the 1970s but what else will pacify the many people who will not rest until they have seen justice done?

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Thursday November 14, 1974

William III born 1650. The Prince of Wales born 1948. I hate British weather. Yesterday would have been a lot nicer if todays little sunny periods had given an orange glow above the sogginess of Bradford. Never again will I believe this talk about 'Queen's weather'. The sun simply ignored Her Majesty yesterday.

Busy at the YP. Anne, who departed our company in June, paid us a visit after lunch, and was her usual boisterous self. I got on perfectly well with Anne, though I did disagree with the way she wielded her authority as deputy librarian, over the library staff. After all, Sarah has worked in the department for 5 years and at 21 was quite capable of making Kathleen an admirable deputy.

Lynn goes mad after tea when she sees in the EP that Alison's Dad is now regional manager of the Southampton area. How could Al possibly have such information without conveying it to Lynn? But seriously, Lynn is rather upset at the thought of seeing Alison depart to the south of England without so much as a by your leave. Alison Dixon is a gorgeous creature and only the person of Martyn Cole Eesquire keeps me from her side. My passions are at a high level indeed when I see the diminutive, blond creature, in her black necklace, reclining on our settee.

Collapse with the hysteria put about by the 'Monty Python' crowd on the BBC. Sue and I have exactly the same sense of humour. We dissolved in the kitchen for about half an hour after the programme had finished.

-==-

Thursday November 7, 1974

Day off. Up at about 10 and do nothing until about 11. Dad goes to Morrison's on a wild goose chase for something called sugar, a crystal-like substance believed to have been extinct for 200m years. Whether he'll get any or not is a debatable point, and I don't hang around to find out. Go into work arriving at 10 after 12. Kathy passes on a message from Sarah who is spending her lunch hour at Whitelocks. I join them at about 20 past. Carol sits brooding over a gin and tonic. She says Michael asked her for a divorce the other day because he wants to enjoy himself before he grows too old. I consider this to be a bloody liberty. Michael Johnson may well be only 22 but he's married now and it's his own silly fault if he's now got cold feet. I despise weakness and half-heartedness where marriage is concerned. I don't give a damn about how people treat one another when they aren't united in Holy wedlock, but when the plunge is taken it really should be forever, commanding love and respect on both sides. The character of Michael Johsnon is not to be desired. Home at nearly 3 to see 'The Forsyte Saga' on TV. Have fish and chips followed by crumpets for lunch.

Hear on the 6 o'clock news that dear old Sir Alec Douglas-Home is now ennobled with a peerage once again. Will he be Lord Home or Lord Douglas-Home, I don't know. It's only a feeble life peerage of course, not the real thing.

Haven't heard from Lynne all week and am not going to bother ringing her either. She's going off on Friday_____. See Monty Python which gives us all cronic hysteria as usual, then see the corny Evening Standard Film Awards where Glenda Jackson is to be seen receiving lots of medals, trophies and acclaim, from an audience consisting of 300 drunken film extras in evening dress.

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Thursday October 31, 1974

Unfortunately, the central heating exploded last night, and we are now plunged into the horrors of no hot water or heat, a necessity at this time of the year. I realised last night that the ___________.

A hateful day. Met Lynne in town at noon and went to the shops together. She looks round for a coat and then takes me to Schofield's in search of a Royal Albert tea-pot. Nothing came of it. I'm beginning to tire of Miss Mather's company and forsee and early collapse in our weak relationship. After my recent bout of mature women I feel that Lynne is too young for me. Many will say that our age gap is the ideal gap to achieve, but I rather like the 21-22 year-old type like Judith. Besides, I've grown quite fond of Sarah Collis as of late, though I realise nothing will come if it. You'd hardly believe that it was only a mere three days since I was saying all those wonderful things about Lynne here in these pages.

The weather is beautiful. Brilliantly sunny with bright blue skies up above. The temperature (at 38f) isn't very good, but being warm blooded I fail to notice the cold. Lynne was frozen solid all afternoon. Home at 5 and sit in the lounge all night by the light of a candle. See Monty Python at 9 on BBC2 - hilariously funny. Lynn and Dave joined us at 10.30. Bed at about 11.

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