Sunday August 8, 1976

8th after Trinity. Up late and after a good lunch retire to the lounge to listen to Pennine Radio. The house is deserted. Mum is in the garden and Dad is at work. Sue, Peter and Lynn and David are at David's brother's in York. Just as I sit down Pete M arrives and asks if I want to accomapny him on a birthday cake distributing adventure. I readily agree. The boredom at home would have been unbearable. Go to Christopher's. Show out holiday photos to Mrs Ratcliffe. Then move on to Denise's but she isn't in either. (When Carole rang on Friday she told me that Denise had gone to London ________________.) From Denise's we went on Peter's place which is in a state of organised chaos. No carpets or furniture - horrible. Sit and drink tea with Lynne, Peter, Mrs Mather and Auntie Lilian. Mr M watches cricket on the TV in the wreckage of the lounge. He was sitting on a soap box. Have a laugh showing the family our holidays pics. Peter measured us all with a tape measure up against the side of the house - I am six feet and half an inch.

At 5pm we all had dinner. That is me, Lynne, Peter, Karl and Mrs M. Oh, and Auntie Lilian. After tea we take the two ladies to see Granny M at Scalebor Park Asylum. Evidently the old girl is 82 and is senile and quite daft, in her old age.

Mrs M comes out of the asylum looking sad, and so Lynne and I take her and Auntie Lilian for a drink to the Red Lion. They cheer up soon enough. After taking them back to Bramhope Lynne and I go to the Commercial until closing time. Today was probably the last time I will ever set foot in Ty-Gwyn (the Mather home in Old Lane) where Lynne has lived for 9 years. The place looked sad and desolate - but it only is bricks and mortar. It's people who make a home - wherever it may be.

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Thursday July 31, 1975

Pay day. And a party over at the Central in honour of Alan Brooke and Peter Milburn, who are leaving to join Pennine Radio. The EP won't really be the same without them.

At 5.30 we all went across to the upper room of the Central, where Malcolm Barker and Geoff Hemingway are holding court like Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.

A small crowd gathers to pay homage to the two who are leaving us, and Geoff Hemingway makes a brilliant speech. Sarah and I nip downstairs to the bar, and I'm sloshed well before 7 o'clock. Kathleen goes at about 7 and I stand with EP reporters. Sarah is deep in conversation with Angela Barnes and Roy Holland and we have little communication until she drags me, like a wailing schoolboy, to the last bus. I profess my undying love for her, as I always do on these occasions, but I don't think she likes the idea.

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