_. To the YP by omnibus and found myself sitting on the top deck next to Peter Lazenby, armed with his copy of the vile 'Morning Star'. We sat in silence throughout and he handed me the rag to read, probably trying to convert me. I sat grunting at the ridiculous slant his paper puts on the current situation. Derek Robinson, the communist who has brought British Leyland to a standstill, is a 'hero', and Lord Carrington is being a 'provocateur' over the Rhodesian situation. I smiled because of the line the 'Morning Star' takes over the Ayatollah Khomeini. They cannot excuse his hideous behaviour and on this topic they side with the capitalist Yanks. Peter smoked his peculiar cigarettes throughout dropping piles of ash over me as well as himself. I shall more than likely attend Peter's birthday/Christmas party on December 15.
I wrapped a few Christmas presents this evening and then phoned Ally. Sue and Pete went out to a pantomime and I watched a Vincent Price horror movie until after 12. Mum and Dad were roaring with laughter about abusive phone calls. Kinky, eh? Bed at 12:27am with Adolf.
-=-
Showing posts with label peter lazenby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peter lazenby. Show all posts
20200401
20131115
Wednesday September 20, 1978
Retired to bed with Adolf Hitler and these gloomy thoughts at 10:30.
-=-
20130626
Tuesday June 20, 1978
Full Moon 21:30
Mr Lazenby and others appeared in the office today and I told them the tale of Sunday night/Monday morning. By lunchtime I was a celebrity and could do no work for giving interviews to the more successful Blackpool travellers. Dave Bruce, for one, seems to hold me in higher esteem. Why making an utter and complete fool of myself in several counties in the space of five or six hours impressed my colleagues I fail to see. Perhaps it was a yearning for mystery and adventure they longed for. I was surrounded by forty or fifty lads who have always longed to be stranded in a northern seaside resort, but have never dared do it. Unlike me, the first EP Father's Day tripper to pass a night on the open road ~ on Her Majesty's highway. Surely, I now merit a front page splash in Postscript (our internal rag)? Indeed, I have achieved something this weekend that even Chris Bonington or Sherpa Tenzing could never even imagine doing.
Jacq phoned today and I apologised about crashing out on her arrival last night. Evidently John came up bearing belated Father's Day gifts. She and Mum entertained him in my absence.
-=-
Jacq phoned today and I apologised about crashing out on her arrival last night. Evidently John came up bearing belated Father's Day gifts. She and Mum entertained him in my absence.
-=-
Sunday June 18, 1978
4th Sunday after Trinity
Father's Day
We walked (continued from the previous page - editor) to Guiseley in high spirits and of course in clothing and footwear. I deposited Jacq at a bus stop and went home to wash my face, change my shirt and collect a bottle of coffee wine. I then tanked back down the lane and found Jacq still waiting for a bus and so I took her to Mr Lazenby's residence, where I was set upon by Pete's common-law wife's bronchil son. In fact I was almost wiped out by the little brat.
At 7:30am Pete's girlfriend drove us all to the Central, where I parted with Jacq until tomorrow. And so it came to pass that on the morning of Father's Day we began our intake of alcoholic beverage. I am ashamed to say that I could only manage lager whilst Pete was drinking whisky. By the time the coach arrived at 9:30am we were all pissed up. I sat with Darryl Wills and Pete, who drank most of my coffee wine ~ at his own peril.
In typical fashion we hit Blackpool at noon and within minutes we were gathered in a lousy, tart-filled cavern drinking ale. Let me say that at this stage I was feeling quite fit, healthy and wide awake, but even as I pen this I must add that the memory of this pub is the last thing I do recall before waking up on the beach, covered in sand, with a Yorkshire terrier straddling my form, at 7pm in the evening.
Yes, the coach had left Blackpool at 6:30 without me, but to be fair they had waited in the station for half an hour. I was sunburned too. I didn't panic, weep or wail or throw my hands in the air with frustration. I got on the first coach I could find ~ to Preston ~ and hit the place at some time after 8. I managed to phone Pete at the Albion in Skipton with news of my safety, and then hitch hiked towards the motorway.
Pete told me that the coffee wine had had a drastic effect. I may have been stranded in the wilds of Lancashire but at least I was physically intact.
From here I was picked up by a geezer who drove like a maniac, and blasted off down a motorway which had a sign 'Leeds 45 miles'. He turned to me after heading a few miles down the road and said: "I'm going to have to drop you here because I'm forking off to Eccles now." I didn't want to go to Eccles. It was now about 11pm. It was a warm evening, which was a god thing, because my thin, gaily coloured deckchair-like shirt was my only protection from the elements.
So, I was stranded on the hard shoulder of the M-Way, and within minutes a police car pulled up and I was hauled inside and cautioned. It's an offence for pedestrians to perambulate on a motorway. "Anything you say will be taken down..." &c. I was booked, charged and tainted. My future political career was in tatters. The young PC drove me to a junction and ordered me off the motorway. I was dropped on a busy road and within minutes I was on a late night bus heading towards Manchester. It crossed my mind to go see Dave in Stockport, but decided not to. I didn't want to worry him, and he wouldn't want a fugitive on his hands. I was the only passenger on the bus and the driver looked back at me and enquired: "how do you fancy a Chinese meal?" I said "no thanks" but it didn't prevent him parking up the bus and nipping off into a restaurant for quite some time to dine. I waited for quite a bit and then went into a fish and chip shop next door and bought a few cans of pop to wash the sand out of my mouth. A woman in the shop asked to buy my shirt. I declined. We hit Manchester a little after 12 and once again I set off towards a motorway.
I met a friendly, but highly suspect taxi driver, who let me travel free of charge in his cab. He took me to the M62 (again), but after a couple of hours walking I hadn't secured a lift, and crossing fields I found myself in Rochdale (?). At 6am I got a bus back to Manchester where I waited for the first coach to Leeds at 7:30am.
-=-
Father's Day
We walked (continued from the previous page - editor) to Guiseley in high spirits and of course in clothing and footwear. I deposited Jacq at a bus stop and went home to wash my face, change my shirt and collect a bottle of coffee wine. I then tanked back down the lane and found Jacq still waiting for a bus and so I took her to Mr Lazenby's residence, where I was set upon by Pete's common-law wife's bronchil son. In fact I was almost wiped out by the little brat.
At 7:30am Pete's girlfriend drove us all to the Central, where I parted with Jacq until tomorrow. And so it came to pass that on the morning of Father's Day we began our intake of alcoholic beverage. I am ashamed to say that I could only manage lager whilst Pete was drinking whisky. By the time the coach arrived at 9:30am we were all pissed up. I sat with Darryl Wills and Pete, who drank most of my coffee wine ~ at his own peril.
In typical fashion we hit Blackpool at noon and within minutes we were gathered in a lousy, tart-filled cavern drinking ale. Let me say that at this stage I was feeling quite fit, healthy and wide awake, but even as I pen this I must add that the memory of this pub is the last thing I do recall before waking up on the beach, covered in sand, with a Yorkshire terrier straddling my form, at 7pm in the evening.
Pete told me that the coffee wine had had a drastic effect. I may have been stranded in the wilds of Lancashire but at least I was physically intact.
From here I was picked up by a geezer who drove like a maniac, and blasted off down a motorway which had a sign 'Leeds 45 miles'. He turned to me after heading a few miles down the road and said: "I'm going to have to drop you here because I'm forking off to Eccles now." I didn't want to go to Eccles. It was now about 11pm. It was a warm evening, which was a god thing, because my thin, gaily coloured deckchair-like shirt was my only protection from the elements.
So, I was stranded on the hard shoulder of the M-Way, and within minutes a police car pulled up and I was hauled inside and cautioned. It's an offence for pedestrians to perambulate on a motorway. "Anything you say will be taken down..." &c. I was booked, charged and tainted. My future political career was in tatters. The young PC drove me to a junction and ordered me off the motorway. I was dropped on a busy road and within minutes I was on a late night bus heading towards Manchester. It crossed my mind to go see Dave in Stockport, but decided not to. I didn't want to worry him, and he wouldn't want a fugitive on his hands. I was the only passenger on the bus and the driver looked back at me and enquired: "how do you fancy a Chinese meal?" I said "no thanks" but it didn't prevent him parking up the bus and nipping off into a restaurant for quite some time to dine. I waited for quite a bit and then went into a fish and chip shop next door and bought a few cans of pop to wash the sand out of my mouth. A woman in the shop asked to buy my shirt. I declined. We hit Manchester a little after 12 and once again I set off towards a motorway.
I met a friendly, but highly suspect taxi driver, who let me travel free of charge in his cab. He took me to the M62 (again), but after a couple of hours walking I hadn't secured a lift, and crossing fields I found myself in Rochdale (?). At 6am I got a bus back to Manchester where I waited for the first coach to Leeds at 7:30am.
-=-
20130619
Thursday June 15, 1978
Linda and Anne's leaving 'do' at the Central from 5:30. I took Jacq. We were quite pissed by 11. People kept approaching me to say things like: "I thought you were the quiet type?" It annoyed me.
Peter Lazenby gave me £10 and ordered me to go on the Blackpool trip. It was a moving scene.
-=-
Peter Lazenby gave me £10 and ordered me to go on the Blackpool trip. It was a moving scene.
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20130610
Wednesday April 5, 1978
Lynn gave me 'Worth' aftershave (for my birthday) and Sue and Pete a £5 note. From John and Maria I had a 1300 page paper back 'Adolf Hitler' by John Toland. Little JPH could only just carry it through the door - bless him.
Yes, I'm 23 today. Cards from Sarah, Eileen and dear Jacq, who presented me with one plus the Doobie Brothers LP at the Central this lunchtime.
We met at 1pm and knocked back Pernod and a few lagers. Peter Lazenby was eyeing Jacq up and down and back at the office he told me I was doomed to marriage. Surely, I'm much too young to enter into that Holy estate? Too bloody young by about 40 years? However, I suppose it will happen one day whether I like it or not.
This evening I played the Doobie Brothers LP very loudly and generally annoyed everyone at home.John, Maria and JPH came followed by Edith and Ernest shortly afterwards. Much alcohol was supped and JPH did his party pieces. A heated debate on Princess Margaret's £50,000 per annum took place and I was out-voted by the misguided majority.
Mum said HRH is nothing short of being a 'prostitute' and Ern hilariously said that had Princess Margaret been in the army she'd have been shot for deserting her post. If this is so then the army is slipping because the princess is a colonel-in-chief several times over. Poor Margaret.
-=-
Yes, I'm 23 today. Cards from Sarah, Eileen and dear Jacq, who presented me with one plus the Doobie Brothers LP at the Central this lunchtime.
We met at 1pm and knocked back Pernod and a few lagers. Peter Lazenby was eyeing Jacq up and down and back at the office he told me I was doomed to marriage. Surely, I'm much too young to enter into that Holy estate? Too bloody young by about 40 years? However, I suppose it will happen one day whether I like it or not.
This evening I played the Doobie Brothers LP very loudly and generally annoyed everyone at home.John, Maria and JPH came followed by Edith and Ernest shortly afterwards. Much alcohol was supped and JPH did his party pieces. A heated debate on Princess Margaret's £50,000 per annum took place and I was out-voted by the misguided majority.
Mum said HRH is nothing short of being a 'prostitute' and Ern hilariously said that had Princess Margaret been in the army she'd have been shot for deserting her post. If this is so then the army is slipping because the princess is a colonel-in-chief several times over. Poor Margaret.
-=-
20120804
Sunday June 19, 1977
2nd after Trinity. The Evening Post Father's Day Trip to Blackpool with all the consequences that go with it.
Martyn, of course joined the team and the both of us were with Pete Lazenby for most of the day. We started drinking on the coach at about 9.30am and until 11pm it was really the only source of recreation. For a couple of hours in the afternoon when the pubs closed to re-stock their shelves we went wild on the Golden Mile - clad in our eccentric head-gear as is the tradition on the annual Father's Day excursion.
Why is it that respectable old ladies will go to great lengths just to kiss the proud, upstanding wearer of a top hat? They do, anyway.
The weather was exceptional. Warm and sunny. We couldn't participate in the ritual 'football of the beach' because for the first time in living memory, the tide was, as they say, in.
By 7.30 we were back at the Albion in Skipton for refreshment and Peter's cabaret appearance. The boy excelled himself too. His song about the royal family set to the tune of 'In an English Country Garden' received my boos and hisses and tremendous applause was given to his 'Albert and the Lion'. He'd make a brilliant music hall star. Home by 11.30 and only slightly pissed which cannot be said for the majority of merry trippers. No indeed.
-=-
 |
| Lazenby: music hall star. |
Why is it that respectable old ladies will go to great lengths just to kiss the proud, upstanding wearer of a top hat? They do, anyway.
The weather was exceptional. Warm and sunny. We couldn't participate in the ritual 'football of the beach' because for the first time in living memory, the tide was, as they say, in.
By 7.30 we were back at the Albion in Skipton for refreshment and Peter's cabaret appearance. The boy excelled himself too. His song about the royal family set to the tune of 'In an English Country Garden' received my boos and hisses and tremendous applause was given to his 'Albert and the Lion'. He'd make a brilliant music hall star. Home by 11.30 and only slightly pissed which cannot be said for the majority of merry trippers. No indeed.
-=-
20120527
Wednesday May 18, 1977
A good Spring day combined, sadly, with diarrhoea. A sad sentence to have to compile, but very true.
Marita brought me as far as Rawdon in her mini and when I told her I'd been out with Carole on Thursday she went into raptures saying how perfect we are together and that I haven't looked as happy since May '76.
Tonight Tony and I went out and said that I - for twelve months - had given the appearance of being thoroughly bored by the company and that my face always held a look of far-off expectation. Is all this a big publicity campaign paid for by Carole?
Tony came up at 8.30 and we bumped into Pete Lazenby on Park Road and out of courtesy we accompanied him to Guiseley Working Mens' Club. Nice, cheap lager, but oh the people. Honestly, I'm no snob and no one likes good honest people more than me but the sight of the people therein is ghastly. As though they're hating every minute - just waiting for the sirens to go off summoning then back to the factory floor.
On to the Stone Trough until 10.30. A completely dead place. Even the juke plays at a whisper. Later Tony comes back home for a cup of tea and egg mayonnaise sandwiches. We discus phases one, two and three and I insist that they were started by the Heath government in 1973.
Janet Land is visiting Lynn.
-=-
Marita brought me as far as Rawdon in her mini and when I told her I'd been out with Carole on Thursday she went into raptures saying how perfect we are together and that I haven't looked as happy since May '76.
Tonight Tony and I went out and said that I - for twelve months - had given the appearance of being thoroughly bored by the company and that my face always held a look of far-off expectation. Is all this a big publicity campaign paid for by Carole?
Tony came up at 8.30 and we bumped into Pete Lazenby on Park Road and out of courtesy we accompanied him to Guiseley Working Mens' Club. Nice, cheap lager, but oh the people. Honestly, I'm no snob and no one likes good honest people more than me but the sight of the people therein is ghastly. As though they're hating every minute - just waiting for the sirens to go off summoning then back to the factory floor.
 |
| Stone Trough |
Janet Land is visiting Lynn.
-=-
20120130
Friday January 28, 1977
Meet Miss Denise Akroyd outside the YP at 1pm and we go over to the Central and meet Marita who buys us both a pint of lager in honour of her twenty second birthday tomorrow. D and I sit until 2.30 and discuss a few controversial topics including Mr_________.She makes it all sound like Wuthering Heights. A good girl. We plan to have an orgy at her place on February 11.
Back to the YP. Ring Lynne and connect her to Stephanie Ferguson so she can enquire about the Burley-in-Wharfedale residence. Lynne is cheesed off buggering about between Thornton-le-Dale & Roundhay. Quite understandable I think.
Meanwhile: 8 o'clock, the two of us head to the (Horsforth) Leisure Centre where we attempt to watch the squash finals. Sarah and Peter (Baker) are in foul moods, and after battling though dinner of yet another chicken leg and frozen peas I'd had just about enough. Sarah sobbing all over the dinner table didn't do much to improve the atmosphere. Lynne and I cleared off as soon as it was decently possible to Oakwood Hall, where another 'mortuary atmosphere' prevailed. Peter & Dave Lazenby, Miss Akroyd and Michelle are romping around to old Showaddywaddy singles, &c. Need I say more?
-==-
Meanwhile: 8 o'clock, the two of us head to the (Horsforth) Leisure Centre where we attempt to watch the squash finals. Sarah and Peter (Baker) are in foul moods, and after battling though dinner of yet another chicken leg and frozen peas I'd had just about enough. Sarah sobbing all over the dinner table didn't do much to improve the atmosphere. Lynne and I cleared off as soon as it was decently possible to Oakwood Hall, where another 'mortuary atmosphere' prevailed. Peter & Dave Lazenby, Miss Akroyd and Michelle are romping around to old Showaddywaddy singles, &c. Need I say more?
-==-
20120113
Sunday December 19, 1976
4th in Advent. Devour a fried breakfast and then go to Thornton-le-Dale. Believe it or not I have no hangover and feel fit, vital and active. Poor Lynne is very different indeed. Three anadins later and she's still pale and tired.
 |
Life at Thornton-le-Dale is much the same as it's always been and I cannot be bothered to comment further. Went to Pickering for a drink with Pete M and Chris and discuss the holiday [I left Lynne at home]. Pete said _______.Would I want to go on holiday with somebody who isn't perfect fun?
-==-
20110312
Sunday June 20, 1976
1st after Trinity. Evening Post Father's Day trip to Blackpool. Need I go into the details? Spent most of the day with Peter Lazenby, both wearing bowler hats. In fact, Peter's was a top hat and the label inside read: "By Royal Appointment to HRH The Duchess of Connaught." She died in 1916-18 or thereabouts which makes the hat virtually Victorian.
Everyone attempted to get pissed, but it wasn't half as bad (or good, which ever way you look at it) as people told me it would be. Poor Denis Haywood fell off a jetty and injured his arm but otherwise we had no casualties. Home at 12.15 still wearing my bowler (hat) after sitting in the Albion pub in Skipton from 7.30. A good day indeed. Father's Day too.
(HRH The Duchess of Connaught died March 14, 1917, aged 56 years - MLR).
-==-
20100507
Saturday September 13, 1975
Up at about 10.30 which is unusual for Saturdays. Have breakfast with Mum and Dad and then sit with the Daily Mail in my dressing gown. The Daily Mail isn't stuffed down my dressing gown of course, I mean I was sat reading the DM wearing my dressing gown. Phew, glad I've got that little matter cleared up.
Carole rings and says she's off into Leeds with a schoolfriend - to get a new dress, and I say I'll meet her at 8pm.
Mum and Dad go shopping and buy me 'Fool' by Al Matthews, a good record and the first I've bought in years.
Go down to Carole's at 8 and she looks stunning in a beautiful, new dress. Her hair is gorgeous too, and I'm so glad now that she had the patience to wait around for me whilst I was carrying on pretending not to be the least bit interested in her.
Very few people in the Hare. David's gone to the dogs again, and I think with MM and Marita too.
Move on to the Lister's Arms with Peter and then back to the Hare at 10.30. CD, Carole and I go to Helen Claughton's party on Otley Road, and CB goes with Roger. Jimmy Elkington is playing around like a ridiculous big kid and Pete Lazenby is there quite drunk. We don't drink anything and leave just after 1am. Walk Carole to Harry Ramsden's then come home.
--==--
Carole rings and says she's off into Leeds with a schoolfriend - to get a new dress, and I say I'll meet her at 8pm.
Mum and Dad go shopping and buy me 'Fool' by Al Matthews, a good record and the first I've bought in years.
Go down to Carole's at 8 and she looks stunning in a beautiful, new dress. Her hair is gorgeous too, and I'm so glad now that she had the patience to wait around for me whilst I was carrying on pretending not to be the least bit interested in her.
Very few people in the Hare. David's gone to the dogs again, and I think with MM and Marita too.
Move on to the Lister's Arms with Peter and then back to the Hare at 10.30. CD, Carole and I go to Helen Claughton's party on Otley Road, and CB goes with Roger. Jimmy Elkington is playing around like a ridiculous big kid and Pete Lazenby is there quite drunk. We don't drink anything and leave just after 1am. Walk Carole to Harry Ramsden's then come home.
--==--
20091215
Tuesday December 24, 1974
Christmas Eve. YP till 12 before the festivities begin. At 12 I go outside to meet John who is coming into Leeds for the booze-up in the Central Station pub. He comes up to the library and waits while we open our presents and knock back a glass of cinzano bianco.
The Central is packed out - unbelieveable. Sarah, John and I spend most of the time at the bar. Peter Lazenby and few of his 'Roundhead' Sealed Knot friends go almost hysterical when I tell them that Sarah is descended from Bridget, daughter of Oliver Cromwell, and General Henry Ireton. Praise upon praise was lavished upon her. However, they didn't go so far as to buy her a drink. Sarah, John and I left Leeds by bus at about 3 o'clock. The massive crowd in the Central prevented us from being rendered incapable with ales and spirits, but we weren't all that sober. Devour a few layers of chocolates while travelling home.
At home Mum is prepared for Christmas. Have tea - the first meal of the day for me, before going out on the town to the Hare at 8.30. We stay until 11.30 and nobody seems really enchanted with festive cheer. Come home with Lynn and Dave Baker and sit about merry-making until the early hours.
-==-
The Central is packed out - unbelieveable. Sarah, John and I spend most of the time at the bar. Peter Lazenby and few of his 'Roundhead' Sealed Knot friends go almost hysterical when I tell them that Sarah is descended from Bridget, daughter of Oliver Cromwell, and General Henry Ireton. Praise upon praise was lavished upon her. However, they didn't go so far as to buy her a drink. Sarah, John and I left Leeds by bus at about 3 o'clock. The massive crowd in the Central prevented us from being rendered incapable with ales and spirits, but we weren't all that sober. Devour a few layers of chocolates while travelling home.
At home Mum is prepared for Christmas. Have tea - the first meal of the day for me, before going out on the town to the Hare at 8.30. We stay until 11.30 and nobody seems really enchanted with festive cheer. Come home with Lynn and Dave Baker and sit about merry-making until the early hours.
-==-
20090613
Tuesday May 21, 1974
A cold, rainy day. Mum and Dad go to Nottingham to be with poor Auntie Eddy, who is beside herself with worry. Lynn comes home from school at 2.30, her exams having finished, and she prepares for Al Dixon's birthday celebrations tonight. Listen to a few records and then leap into a hot bath. Leaving at 4 I think I have avoided the rain but to my horror I find a deluge awaiting me in Leeds.
YP quite busy and we nip out at 9 for a few drinks in the Central where we see Peter Lazenby, John Morgan, etc. Pete tells me that the County Arcade in the city centre was razed to the ground earlier this evening. Pity really. Get taxi at 12 and find everyone in bed. Do likewise.
The EP revealed that the Duke of Edinburgh is to visit Guiseley on July 10. The duke is to attend a meeting at Aireborough Grammar School before going on to Bradford, no doubt passing the end of our lane.
-==-
YP quite busy and we nip out at 9 for a few drinks in the Central where we see Peter Lazenby, John Morgan, etc. Pete tells me that the County Arcade in the city centre was razed to the ground earlier this evening. Pity really. Get taxi at 12 and find everyone in bed. Do likewise.
The EP revealed that the Duke of Edinburgh is to visit Guiseley on July 10. The duke is to attend a meeting at Aireborough Grammar School before going on to Bradford, no doubt passing the end of our lane.
-==-
20090604
Thursday February 14, 1974
Valentine's Day. This general election is making me sick. The tv can do nothing other than show Harold Wilson attacking Robin Day. The Prime Minister is spending his time walking round the Tory strongholds, bare-headed in the rain, making amiable noises to innocent shop assistants, and patting the heads of Tory babies. And where is it all getting us I ask? Jeremy Thorpe is the only decent politician left - it's a shame he doesn't stand a snowball in Hell's chance of forming a government.
A very exciting afternoon. At 1 o'clock I made my way into the Headrow in order to purchase my sandwiches from Malcolms Confectioners & Co. The shop was more than laden with gentlefolk, who were themselves pursuing the daily task of purchasing sustainance. This gathered multitude formed an orderly queue - out onto the sunlit Headrow like a peninsula or reproving finger. My person was near the end of this line, and in my idleness my eyes gazed in mild approval at the Victorian structure, commonly called the Town Hall, whilst at the same time my stomach insisted on reminding me that the ancient, noble Leeds buildings could not restore peace to the empty cavern in the hollow of my belly. My hunger was appeased by the touch of gentle female hands on the back of my neck turning my thoughts to other forms of sustainance. Yes, it was dear Sue Crosby. Such an eccentric she is! We fled like petrified sheep to the Central pub where we encountered Peter Lazenby, who still seems enamoured of dear Sue. Consumed 2 pints and a pleasant, much needed corned beef sandwich. Sue and I nearly crawled back up Wellington Street............to......work.....
-==--
A very exciting afternoon. At 1 o'clock I made my way into the Headrow in order to purchase my sandwiches from Malcolms Confectioners & Co. The shop was more than laden with gentlefolk, who were themselves pursuing the daily task of purchasing sustainance. This gathered multitude formed an orderly queue - out onto the sunlit Headrow like a peninsula or reproving finger. My person was near the end of this line, and in my idleness my eyes gazed in mild approval at the Victorian structure, commonly called the Town Hall, whilst at the same time my stomach insisted on reminding me that the ancient, noble Leeds buildings could not restore peace to the empty cavern in the hollow of my belly. My hunger was appeased by the touch of gentle female hands on the back of my neck turning my thoughts to other forms of sustainance. Yes, it was dear Sue Crosby. Such an eccentric she is! We fled like petrified sheep to the Central pub where we encountered Peter Lazenby, who still seems enamoured of dear Sue. Consumed 2 pints and a pleasant, much needed corned beef sandwich. Sue and I nearly crawled back up Wellington Street............to......work.....
-==--
20090514
Monday December 24, 1973
Christmas Eve is here at last. Finish filing at work at 11.30 and we all go behind the filing cabinets for a makeshift party - received 2 nice presents. The afternoon is given over to enjoying ourselves, and I get a train at 1.10 out of Leeds.
John and Lynn are watching tv and poor Sue is working all day at the hairdressers. Mum and Dad are shopping until 3.0.
At 7.30 John, Christine W and I go to the Emmotts where Marita, Laura, Chris, Andy, Peter, David and MM all assemble. A boozy evening.Feeling totally pissed. Denny and I go on to Peter Lazenby's party on Park Road, Guiseley. My God, don't ask me what I drank, but the whole evening from midnight onwards is a complete blank to me. Home at 3. Immediately to bed. Sleep until noon on Christmas Day.
-==-
John and Lynn are watching tv and poor Sue is working all day at the hairdressers. Mum and Dad are shopping until 3.0.
At 7.30 John, Christine W and I go to the Emmotts where Marita, Laura, Chris, Andy, Peter, David and MM all assemble. A boozy evening.Feeling totally pissed. Denny and I go on to Peter Lazenby's party on Park Road, Guiseley. My God, don't ask me what I drank, but the whole evening from midnight onwards is a complete blank to me. Home at 3. Immediately to bed. Sleep until noon on Christmas Day.
-==-
Thursday December 13, 1973
Britain today came to a grinding standstill when the Prime Minister, Mr Heath, announced drastic measures in the Commons. From Monday many industries will be on a three day week, which will create massive unemployment by the beginning of the New Year. Tv will close down at 10.30, and Christmas tree lights will only be allowed to be lit on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. The steel industry is to close down and the so-called 'national boom' is dead. Poor Ludovic Kennedy was heart-broken when he realised that his programme 'Mid-Week' would be axed by Mr Heath's measures. The poor man was desolate.
Anyway, on the bright side, turkeys are free from the VD epidemic which wiped out millions of them last year, and no restrictions concerning the manufacture of Christmas puddings have yet been enacted by HM Government. Poor Sarah was shivering with cold at work this afternoon due to the ban on office heating. Petrol will not be rationed until the New Year. And if you want my opinion, all we want now is a World War and we will have had everything.
Went for a drink with Peter Lazenby at lunchtime. Didn't return to the YP until 2.20. Miss Went was nice about it. I was pissed. Drinking on an empty stomach always flattens me. Going to the editor's Xmas booze-up on Dec 21.
Bed at 11.30.
-==-
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