Thursday August 23, 1979

_. All the best people are getting married these days, aren't they? The Duke of Sutherland; Twiggy; Rod Stewart; Christine Braithwaite; Lorna Luft; Nikki Lauda; Jack Parnell; Tina, Marchioness of Blandford [died 1971]; Prince Bertil of Sweden and his bit of stuff, Lil, to name but a few. So, with this in mind Ally and I have decided to elope. Tonight's Jim and Margaret session really went with a bang following our announcement, and Mummy lapped it up, showering us both with kisses when we retired to bed at `1:30am. I am only agreeing to elope because I want to be made a ward of court, but Dad ruined things by pointing out I am too old to be made subject of such a court order. We don't know whether to go to Gretna Green or just find a village parson in Hampshire on our way to Martyr Worthy.

At 1:30 Ally came to my room and I crammed a few of my worldly possessions into her suitcase. I have never shared a suitcase with a young lady before. I reflect that for most of my twenty five years I have lived like a future Pope. Entirely blameless and as pure as the driven snow. I wouldn't want Ally to realise this. It cannot be good to be stereotyped into the Cliff Richard mould.

Just a half-day to work and then it's a nice long break. Bye, bye.

-=-

Saturday May 6, 1978

Sun rises 05:24 Sun sets 20:31

Auntie Mabel phoned this morning to say that Uncle Jack's (Myers) days are numbered. Cousin Jackie had phoned her to say the family had been summoned to the hospital to be told nothing can be done to stop the cancer. Auntie Eleanor is going to sell her shop. The poor family must be in torment.

Jacq and I listened to records all day and Dave B took us in the Spitfire to the Hare at 8:30. The place was like Belsen, but without the rotting corpses. So deserted. From here we went to the Fox where Christine joined us at 9. After a short debate we moved to the Crown at Yeadon, which is packed with the cream of local society. The majority of ladies here are like Roman goddesses.

Philip Knowles, exceedingly drunk, invited us all to his girlfriend's party in Guiseley. She is Jane Sinclair, sister of the notorious _____. I was surprised when Christine expressed a wish to go. It didn't take me long to realise just how much she and P still think of one another. I think it would be great if they could be back together.

The party was back at Guiseley (on Victoria Road, above the fish and chip shop). Knocking back the booze and dancing to Rod Stewart LPs. Poor Jacq regurgitated much of tonight's alcoholic intake. She didn't pass out though, like some people. Poor Philip was one of the first to keel over.

I bumped into Lynne Sykes and we had a good long chat reminiscing about Benton (Park). One way or another it was just like old times and I didn't feel like a nerdish 23 year-old with one knee in the grave, which was refreshing. Christine was a sorry figure because she was hitting it off with Philip so well, and when he crashed out in his girlfriend's bed it left her stranded. She danced a good deal.

Home at 4:30 to a damned dawn chorus.

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Thursday November 13, 1975

A cold, crisp, typical autumn morn. To Leeds with Jim. I don't know what I'll do when the day dawns when I find myself Jim Rawnsleyless. The man has been like a chauffeur to me for the best part of three years, and the thought of actually driving myself to work or catching a revolting bus is too bad a thing to even be considered. They don't make good servants like him anymore, you know. They are a dying breed and the world will be a less happier place when they are no more.

Finish at 12. Christine B rings. She's working in Leeds until the end of the month and says we'll have to meet one lunchtime for a pub crawl. I let out a burst of hideous, nervous laughter when she says she and Philip are meeting this lunchtime for summit talks. It will be a year since she finished with him on Boxing Day, but if Elizabeth Taylor can tie the knot once more with Richard Burton I fail to see why they cannot. CD said something was afoot, and I now know what she meant. CB also came out with some unkind remarks about her latest attachment. From what I saw of him last night he did not seem all that formidable, and if anything he struck me as being a cheerful, decent chap. She is seeing him for the last time on Saturday, but I can't help thinking she's making a mistake.

I go into the town centre and drift about wondering what to buy for Carole's 18th birthday next week. I espy a locket in a jewellers window and immediately purchase it. John's given me the money to get her 'Atlantic Crossing' the Rod Stewart LP and I have no trouble getting that either.

Home in the bright sun at 2.15. See in the papers that poor Princess Anne is laid up at Oak Grove with influenza. Tomorrow will be her second wedding anniversary and still we wait anxiously for signs that the marriage has been consumated. It's all very well for Mark Phillips to persue his career in the army, but his first duty must be to secure the throne and give the Queen her first grandchild so to take her mind off the Australian constitutional crisis.

I have no lunch and sit doing absolutely nothing at all. (Well,if you must know I've spent nearly two and a half hours filling in this diary properly).

Carole rings at 4.15 and guesses that I've bought her a locket straight away but when I say "Ah, but what sort of locket?" She replies immediately "a silver one". Dead right, she is, and I'll have to buy something else now for a surprise.

We meet at 8.30 and go to the Hare with John. Maria is at her piano teachers place playing, and so he's quite free and unattached tonight. We buy each other pernod and oranges and have a few lagers too. By 10.30 we are a bit popped up.

Haircut day for Carole on Saturday and she's worried sick by it. I tell her not to be daft. Vidal Sassoon won't make a complete bugger of it.

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Wednesday January 29, 1975

A busy half day.Kathleen gives me a half-day off because she feels I've worked too hard lately - and this is the reward. Meet Christine outside the CA and we make our way to the Ostlers where I consume several pints of lager and spend a small fortune on the juke box. We go looking for tartan material in order to make some 'Rod Stewart style' scarfes. Don't find any we like, and proceed to make our way to the bus station. Masses of photographs are taken in a booth whilst waiting for a bus, and then fight and squabble over who is having which ones. Home at 3.30 or something very close & then sit in a chair with Agatha Christie. I really am passionate over reading at the moment, and having to wait for volume 2 of 'Edward VII' is hideous. Collapse underneath my book and sleep for ten minutes, which is weird for me. I'm becoming an old man before my time.

To the Hare with John, Christine and Chris at 8.45 - have a few lagers and then back here for coffee. Christine and I sit listening to records whilst John and Chris talk holiday brochures. I haven't the stomach to do so. A few nights with all these glossy magazines and I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Margaret Thatcher, Hugh Fraser and Ted Heath have been nominated for the Tory leadership, and it'll be a close battle between Uncle Ted and Mrs T. I'll die if the old bag wins. The thought of a woman Tory leader is repugnant in the extreme.

-==-

Saturday September 8, 1973

John and I go to Bradford in the morning and he buys the LP 'Never a Dull Moment' by Rod Stewart. The day is very hot and Bradford is sweltering. Rush home for lunch.

At 1.15 John and I walk down to Silverdale where Geoff Saxton gives us a lift to watch Leeds United play Birmingham. A 3-0 victory for the boys! We go immediately to Chris's and let ourselves in whilst he's at work. He is home by 6.15 and we have a meal together. Andy joins us at 8 and we all have very large Bacardis. When Marita arrives at 8.30 we are well on the way to getting drunk. Chris drinks his in the bath. John, Andy and me move on to the Fleece 8.45 where the rest of the gang awaits our triumphal arrival.

Later: the party at the Ratcliffe residence begins at 10.30. Andy and I are stoned already. We make a few practical jokes and Linda throws his clothes out of the bedroom window. Dave got drunk tonight for the first time in his life! He, along with Christine and Philip, played strip pontoon in the lounge. Philip had his trousers off before even his shirt. Why? Why? Wh? I ask myself.

At 3.30 Andy, Chris and me walked to Grandways for twenty cigarettes. We finished up dancing in the large concrete flower pots outside one of the shops. At 4.0 everyone went to bed leaving me with a Tamla Motown LP -what a terrible effect it had on me.

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Thursday May 17, 1973

What a day! Got up late and get to school at 9.30. Do Lord Liverpool and Liberal Toryism until 11.45. June and I sit together until nearly 12.30.

Christine tells Dave and me that the Germans and the usual mob are going on a pub crawl round Horsforth tonight. How can I refuse such an invitation! However, June says she doesn't want to go. I feel terrible. But the dear Darling insists that I go alone. Alone, and without June with me for the first time in about 3 and a half months! A final fling before the 'A' levels as it were (or at least one of the last!)

John and I go to Dave's at 7.30. Cowie and his German penfriend Ulrich arrive later. Dave takes us up to the Fleece at Horsforth. Christine, Philip, Phil, Willie, Dietrich, Dale, Wolfgang, Helga, and Dave, Cowie, Ulrich and myself spent 2 and a half hours going round the pubs in Horsforth Town Street. I was 'pissed up to the armpits'. Too hysterical for words. Christine's Philip is great fun.

We decide to move on the the Intercon at Ilkley. Dave has to make two trips. A great night. Sober up at about 12.30. Every time the music breaks we shout "Rod Stewart" - the disc jockey laughs. He plays 'Cindy Incidentally' and 'Maggie' about 10 times. Dale is sloshed. Christine and Philip are a great couple. Finish at 2 o'clock.

Dave takes everyone home in the 1st trip except John, Phil and myself. We walk for four miles until almost 3am. Dave didn't half look hilarious driving off over Ilkley Moor with seven in the back seat. Have you ever heard a car full of Germans singing 'God Save the Queen', 'Four and Twenty Virgins' and 'On Ilkla Moor Bah't at'? Home after 3. Mum not pleased.

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