Saturday March 5, 1977

By the time I had climbed out of bed, bathed and shaved it was one o'clock. Quarrel with Lynn about money. She says I am a damn fool and I end up agreeing with her. I have only £2.30 to last me until Thursday and £1.30 of that will disappear on Monday when I visit the dentist. This leaves me with 80p to enjoy myself at Christine & Graham's engagement party. I also need about 90p in bus fares! Shit. Ah well, if I start worrying about financial matters life won't be worth living & so I won't mention this again.

After lunch the sun was still shining brightly and I decided to take a stroll. With hands thrust deeply in my pockets I marched down the lane at a speed not unlike James Hunt in a Grand Prix. Pass the Hare and by 4pm I'm in Burley-in-Wharfedale. By 5 I was crawling through the doors of WH Smith in Ilkley to a warm greeting from the sultry, bespectacled shop assistant whom I fear fancies me. She is a 6th former. Mr Brotherwood entertains me to tea of sausage and mash. he finds it hard to believe I've walked the whole of the eight or nine miles from Guiseley. I passed out in a chair whilst attempting to focus on a Robert Mitchum epic.

with Christine: ruby studded turnip?

Martyn comes and we end up back at the Hare. CB is in and once again she is broken hearted and screaming for vengeance or revenge or whatever they call it when ones pride has received a sharp blow in the genitals. To the Rose and Crown. Boring. CB is incredibly attractive.


 Tony gives me his flat key and then disappears to Il Trovatore with Martyn. CB and I go back to the flat and sit drinking Southern Comfort and Scotch and listening to a Billy Paul LP. She says it's disgusting how she comes running back to me every time one of her relationships is floundering. What are pals for? We laugh and chat. She says she wants nothing but a turnip for her birthday which I'll do my utmost to obtain. I suppose if I were the Shah of Persia I'd give her a solid gold one (turnip) studded with rubies, &c. But I'm not the Shah of Persia.  The lads are ringing the doorbell at 10.30 and our  tete-a-tete comes to an end. Martyn goes home and the three of us squabble. I fail in everything I say because they're both Pisces and I'm a just a cynical Aries who argues for the sake of arguing. 

Mr Billy Paul

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Monday April 14, 1975

Not a perfect day by any means. Rang Christine at 4.30 and she told me that it was all patched up with Gary, and so I'm an outcast through and through. She didn't say I was an outcast through and through - she doesn't really have to. DON'T I KNOW IT, MATE!! A rotten let-down for my ego. Throwing yourself at a girl only to be told you don't stand a chance. Sad really. Well, what else can I expect at the grand old age of 20? I'm getting past the attractive stage.

The dear old Queen Mother flew off to Persia today for a peaceful, and no doubt warm holiday with the Shah. Dad drew the conclusion that Uncle Harold wants some cheap oil - a typical cynical view, but it's a known fact that the old Queen is a close buddy of the Shah, who nips over to Windsor often enough on private visits of his own. Must be nice to be nearly 75 and perfectly active. 'Go it old Girl!' applies just as much to the Queen Mum as it did to Queen Victoria. We want her to go on for years.

Still battling on with 'George VI'. He's just been created Duke of York in the chapter I'm on with, and it certainly makes one wonder just how many years it will be before Prince Andrew is bestowed with the same honours.

David calls in at 7.15 with an LP. He takes a few more records to tape, and spends about 10 minutes laughing and fooling with Lynn. That boy just ripples wit humour - always so full of vitality too. Must be marvellous. I'm going to Worcester on Apr 21 after all, probably until the 25th - which is the following Friday. It'll be fantastic seeing Barbara again, who is such a gorgeous character. Bed at 11.30 after reading in the lounge.

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