Sunday April 8, 1979

_. Palm Sunday

Yes, Sarah was carried screaming from the party over David's shoulder at about 6am, leaving me alone with Jacq and the debris of half consumed drinks and piles of cig ends. We ate toast and drank tea due to a coffee shortage and huddled together on a large bean bag. ____________.

I crept in at home at about 9am and devoured boiled eggs and looked at the Sundays [papers]. The Countess of Snowdon is expecting a baby in the autumn. It's her first and she's 37 years old.

At 10 I went to Carol J's flat in Horsforth to hang wallpaper in her bathroom, and did so with great skill and patience until 6:30pm. I felt quite satisfied with the job afterwards. Carol was delighted, so much so that she drove me home [still in pouring rain]. Women and vehicles are a weird combination. Watched TV and ate until 10 and found myself unable to stay awake and staggered off to bed. Completely shagged out.

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Sunday March 19, 1978

6th in Lent
Palm Sunday
Summer Time: advance clocks one hour at 0:2.00

A revolting Palm Sunday if ever there was one. Quite seriously hung over, as you all expect me to be on these occasions. Crawled about the flat like a paraplegic toad. Jacq wasn't as bad, but then Trixie arrived with masses of cardboard and looking very delicate. A couple of black coffees later and she roared away in her X19 in the direction of Windsor. (The cardboard boxes are for some of Jacq's personal effects which are to be transported to Leeds in a matter of weeks).

Jan and Dave.

Jacq.

Dave and Jan emerged from bed at some point in the afternoon and the four of us toasted ourselves in Southern Comfort. It looks as if I'll never see Jan again. She's a funny girl and can be awfully moody. Jacq puts it down to the Australian climate. Dave, who is from Newcastle, is a decent sort. After the beverage we larked about on the balcony with our cameras. Jacq took one of my hanging from the kitchen window with a pair of rubber gloves trailing limply from my fingers.

At 4:30 Jacq and I left for Victoria. Pouring with rain. Fond farewells were spoken and I mounted the bus with a pile of her LPs to store at Pine Tops until her arrival.  The coach windows steamed up within minutes and as the coach left all I could make out was a tiny blurred mass waving around in the London gloom. Slept all the way to Leeds and got in for 10:30.

Mama and Papa having patched up their differences have gone to Cumbria for a few days.

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Sunday April 3, 1977

Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday indeed. With Dave G, Glenn, Christine, Lynn and Dave B, Mum & Dad to the Commercial at noon. The locals didn't trot ahead in front of me throwing palms and other objects of flora in my path. Dad wasn't astride a donkey either.

with CB: in perfect shape.

Lynn is like a zombie. Dead to the world. We all - that is everyone on the above list - felt recovered somewhat with the medicinal intake of alcohol. Alas, the drink must have effected my eyes because the ink here has changed to something strongly resembling black currant. Was I drinking vodka and black last night?

CB is in perfect shape. Just like old times. It makes life well worth living. All back to Pine Tops for luncheon. Horrified by the idea of working this evening. It's pouring with rain too and CB looks expectantly at people, fluttering her eye lashes, in an attempt to get a lift to the bus stop. No such bloody luck. We walked into Guiseley in a deluge and waited for what seemed like all eternity for the public transport.

Nothing of interest at the YP. Dead in fact. Ursula is a nice girl. I'm a nice boy. You're a patient reader.




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Sunday March 23, 1975

Palm Sunday. Wake up to a beautiful morning and a beautiful hangover. Palm Sunday too.

The beauty of the weather draws John and I out to the car. We go in the direction of Otley Chevin. Stopping at the Chevin Inn for a quick one we encounter Andy Graham's papa. He buys us a pint each before departing for his lunch. We then go down to the Station in Yeadon - a bloody awful place - where I indulge in one half pint. Back for lunch.

Mum had her hair flashed yesterday and looks like a different person now. She no longer tries to antagonise me. I wonder why?

Dave Baker makes his traditional visit for Sunday tea. Lynn admitted to me tonight that this weekend is the first time they've quarrelled about anything. Nothing serious though.

John and I go with Naomi to the Hare and none of the regulars are in. We're bored stiff and leave at 10 o'clock. He and Naomi go on to Wikis. Aaarrghh! Yes, Wikis on a Sunday! Whatever next? I see tv until 12.15. Tired out, stagger to bed.


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Sunday April 15, 1973

Palm Sunday. Nearly 12 again when I get up. I ought to be ashamed of myself remembering the days when I spent Sunday morning in church. Have breakfast and then go upstairs to tidy my bedroom which is a disgrace with books, papers, and useless articles piled everywhere.

Have a small snack at lunchtime then watch a corny film (black and white). Nice tea at 5 followed by Badminton Horse Trials on the telly (Princess Anne there). Horse trials are always very exciting. One poor girl succumbed to a heavy blow on being thrown from her horse which landed on the top of her. She was taken away in an ambulance. Dad was being anti-social and he did the washing-up. Susan and I departed to the dining room to listen to the top 60 programme. At 6 o'clock I rang Dave. His mother told me that he was in Sheffield for the day but he would contact me on his return. At 7 I rang again. He had just got in, and due to several severe nose bleeds he said he wanted an early night. So it seems that June and I will be alone.

Arrived at the Emmotts at 8.25. June had been there since twenty to 8. But in her note she said quite clearly that she'd been there at 8.30. Anyway, she was enjoying herself with dear old Ivy. We have a laugh about her name. She dislikes Bottomley. Evidently, her grandfather, Mr Bottomley, married a Miss Sidebottom - what a remarkable arsey phenomenon! Bottoms run in the family. June's brother, Geoffrey, changed his name to Dalton, and her sister, prior to her marriage, changed her name to Langley. Bottomley is not so bad. Very much to our surprise, Dave came in at about 9 o'clock. He had a couple of cokes and stayed until about 9.50. He had to take the car home for his Dad. June and I remained until 10.30 - she very much liked my new furry jersey and said that her sister Sue is having a crush on me at the moment. God! Not another one! Came home at 11.15. Watched a programme about what the Commonwealth thinks about the Royal Family. Ray Belisario, that horrid photographer, showed some phots of Princess Margaret scantily clad. Everyone should be allowed to have some privacy - Belisario wants hanging!

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