Sunday April 1, 1979

___. Passion Sunday.

Out of bed before lunchtime which is something of an achievement for me at weekends. At 11:30 Mum and Dad drove Sue, Pete and I to Burley where we met Lynn and Dave, Trevor and his wife, and went over to the Red Lion for a 'few' drinks. Lynn was of course knocking back Pernod. [Trevor is Dave's workmate with the beard who drank Crème de Menthe with ice on Dave's stag night. Do you remember?] We had a good session until 2 but I felt strangely quiet.  We adjourned to Lynn and Dave's for lunch and I demolished a couple of bottles of wine. I created a sensation by lighting a fire in the grate which seemed to amuse everyone. I was always a good fire-maker.

Trevor and his nameless wife disappeared at 5 and Mum and Dad came shortly afterwards, from Threshfield, to take us home. I had a raging, thumping, sickly headache and 'Carmen' by Bizet on BBC2 didn't help.

By 9:30 I felt ill and retired to bed where I went out like a light and only stirred slightly when Dad popped his head round the door. It's a combination of booze and booze, I think. Ah well, it's April.

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Sunday April 4, 1976

Passion Sunday. Passion Sunday maybe, but as far as I was concerned nothing could be further from the truth. Poor Carole was like a moron all day and looks ghastly and haggard. What's become of the vital young maiden of yesteryear? If she doesn't leave home soon she will do something foolish and hideous. Make no mistake about it, our Carole cannot always be relied upon to make a rational move and the thought of her leaping under a bus is always at the forefront of my mind. She was tragic over lunch and I thought she might pass out.

Jackie stays all day. It was quite a laugh really. She took quite a few pictures of us in the garden.

Auntie Hilda and Uncle Tony came at 8.30 just as Lynn, Dave and Martyn arrived back from Alison's. Auntie brought me a clock for my birthday and Lynn is horrified to see it because it's the same as what Dave's bought me. Hilda takes her gift home and is going to change it later.

Dave took Carole home at 11. She was close to tears. She hasn't slept at home since Wednesday.

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Sunday April 8, 1973

Passion Sunday. The Foreign Secretary, Sir Alec "Rabbit" Douglas-Home, yesterday carried out an attack almost Palmerstonian in its nature and somewhat like Eden's Suez rumpus way back in the '50s. He sent a letter repremanding Smith, the Rhodesian chief, or more commonly known as Adolf Hitler II. Evidently, Smith has jailed one of our news correspondents for apparently no known reason. Sir Alec's note expresses the feelings of horror and humiliation felt by the British public. The only message I have for Sir Alec is: 'You may be a bit vague and old fashioned, but we love you. Send in the troops and bring back good old British rule to this sad, misguided pin-prick of a nation stuck out in the jungles of hot, sticky Africa.'

It was on the evening news at 6pm that Picasso, the world famous artist, has died at his home in France. I have never liked his work but he is a legend in his own right and he will go down in history with all the other great artists.

What a day it has been. It is now 6.15pm and I am sitting in the lounge watching a blinding snow storm unfold outside. For any of the people who deny that the world is heading towards its second ice age I can always say: "You ought to have been in Guiseley on April 8, 1973 and you would have been converted." One would think it is January.

Dave rang me at about 5.45 and he is coming to pick me up in the car at 7.45. He and I and the delightful June will be getting together at the Emmotts as usual. Somehow, the thought of having to walk down the lane in these weather conditions is intolerable. Thank the Lord Dave passed his driving test.

Alison has been here all afternoon watching the TV with us. Mum and Dad went down to South Yorkshire at about 3 and on my arrival back from the Emmotts at 11.15 they are still out. Due to the freak weather conditions I am worried about the whereabouts of Mum and Dad. But Dad is a very competent driver and has never had a bump or mishap.

Dave came for me at 7.45 and even the bad weather did not affect his good driving. June and Linda with L's new boyfriend came about 10 minutes later. He is a very quiet chap. Unlike the late Graham. They leave for the Peacock pub at about 9 o'clock. Snow is terrible. June and I go out to get the buses at 10.30 - Dave having gone to meet his Dad in Leeds. I felt very cold. June is so wonderful. Bus comes at 10.50. Home by 11.15. Watch television with John until close-down. He goes to bed. Mum and Dad are home at 1.30.

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