Saturday August 30, 1975

Wake at about 11.30 and hear Mum talking with CB downstairs. Poor Mum takes these overnight visitations from my friends very well, and I'm sure no other mother in the world is more understanding.

Please don't think it odd that though I'm going out with someone Christine can still come up and stay the night. She always sleeps on a camp bed in the dining room, and the only reason why she stays in the first place is because it's impossible for her to get home after we've been to Wikis - other than by taxi that is, which is far too expensive. She leaves before I get up, and Mum and Dad drop her off in Guiseley before going on to the wedding of Philip, one of Dad's young policemen friends.

The day is cold and rainy, and after sitting about listening to the record player for over an hour Maria rings me and asks me to go round to plant the little bush I gave her the other day. I go round at 2 and receive a conducted tour of the garden of 14, Ridgeway, Tranmere Park, by Mrs Molly Macdonald, the noted Irish conversationalist and wit. I then spent an hour listening to Mrs M's childhood reminiscences which have me, 'George' and Pam Moffatt in stitches. At 5pm it's much too wet to walk home so Mr Macdonald brings me home in the car.

To the Hare & Hounds at 8.30. Dave has gone to the dogs - quite literally - to the greyhound racing in Leeds with his Dad, and the rest of the gang, including Chris, stay at the Hare until about 10.30 when we all move on to the Fox. After a chase through Ilkley looking for Martyn Cole, whose birthday it is, we all end up at the Cow & Calf. Dance ourselves to death and decide I must have danced away three and a half stones this weekend. Back to Peter Mather's place until 4.30am. Andy brings us home in style.

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Friday July 25, 1975

Great evening. John and I go down to the Hare at 7pm for a few drinks before going round to 'George's' for the coming onslaught. 'George' is 17 tomorrow, though you'd think she was much older. This isn't intended as an insult by any means, because I like her very much. We go to the Macdonald residence at 7.30 and meet Hugh or Hew, her brother, and his wife. The women take hours to get ready, and whilst the gentlemen are waiting we consume quite a few whiskies.

I know it's shameful, but I can't remember the name of the place in Bingley where we dined. I distinctly remember spilling a glass of red wine over the table and on Jimmy (Macdonald), 'George's' older brother, but the service was perfect and the waiters were falling over each other to clear up the mess. A trio played soft music whilst we ate, and after the meal they had a bash at a few rock 'n roll numbers. 'George' was playing the piano and Jimmy did a turn on the drums. Hilarity.

Carole, who I was supposed to partner, was incredibly dull, and didn't eat a thing, which put me off her straight away. She doesn't eat meat, fish or vegetables, and takes rellish in baked beans, and other crude substances. Is is down to her Roman Catholic upbringing? Mr Macdonald refused all offers of cash, and footed the bill himself. 12 of us: Mr and Mrs Macdonald, Hugh and his wife, Jimmy, John, 'George', Pamela Moffat, Carole and me. Sorry, I mean ten of us. Phew, it must have cost a fortune.

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