Sunday November 5, 1978

24th after Trinity

8th Sunday before Christmas

Hullo Guy Fawkes, wherever you are. Up at 10:30 for gallons of toast and piles of hot, buttered tea (sic). A sunny, bright, autumn day. Jacq and I stayed at Lawn Road throughout and had a pleasant time with Lynn & Dave.

Lynn dragged us round Burley for half an hour before giving us a massive luncheon. My job for the entire day was to stoke the fire and keep it blazing. Either Lynn's made a close friend of Arthur Scargill or they've found a rich coal seam beneath the house.

Watched a Fred Astaire film which included scenes from the 1947 Royal wedding at the end. Sarah Churchill, Winston's daughter, had a part in the film too. She certainly resembles old Clem. It was all quite nauseating.

Jacq and Lynn seem to have hit it off marvellously. Jacq sees a good deal of me in Lynn and vice versa.

Later we watched Lillie Langtry ~ no comment. Home in fog at 10 o'clock.

Mum and Dad had just returned from Auntie Mabel's. Mama looked really nice in a new green dress with the handbag and shoes bought for the wedding. She was laughing over the Sunday Express article about the Prince of Wales escorting Princess NORA of Liechtenstein.

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Sunday October 1, 1978

19th after Trinity

Woke up at nearly 1pm. Sue and Pete prepared lunch. I found Jacq sitting in the dining room reading the Sunday Express. We ate lunch in an uncomfortable atmosphere. Jacq didn't speak unless she was pressed into doing so.__________. This nonsense continued throughout John Hanson singing 'Kismet' - very unnecessary warbling - and the broadcasting of the top 20 on Radio 1. ______________________________.

Watched 'Lillie Langtry'. At 9:30 I walked Jacq to her bus. Mum and Dad got back from Stranraer. They've had a tremendous time.

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Sunday June 6, 1976

Whit Sunday. Wake up at 10 o'clock and have a pint of orange juice in bed with the Sunday Express and the Sunday Mirror. The news content in these great newspapers is so exciting that I fall into a state of unconsciousness until 1 o'clock. Leap out of bed and ring Lynne. She is in good spirits and holds no grudges about refusing to let her bring me home at 3.30am. I refuse to have women travelling about at the crack of dawn at my beck and call. She says Peter's been ill all night and he comes on the line to tell me it must have been the food he ate. I agree because Peter never drinks vast amounts of alcohol.

Mum and Lynn are on the lawn and I go outside to investigate. It is very warm and pleasant and I join them in deckchairs and devour cheese and biscuits.

Lynne comes round at 2 o'clock and the two of us go to the Old Ball cricket ground to see the Evening Post All-Stars play cricket. Norman Hunter (ex Leeds Utd) is there and a few Yorkshire cricketers play, but after half an hour we tire of it. We don't like watching the cricket and are too afraid to lie down in the sun. A cricket ball in the back of the throat isn't something I rellish. Lynne suggests going to Bolton Abbey but we decide it will be too busy. She then suggests going down to the river at Arthington for the afternoon and who am I to disagree? We spend a couple of hours on a sandy beach-like bank on the Wharfe. A fantastic, tranquil afternoon, and I feel ashamed that I ever finished with Lynne in the first place. She looks so sophisticated with her hair in a bun and wearing large sun-glasses. In fact she's beautiful. I kept looking at her and smiling broadly as we were driving along _______________. It was such a relief to be able to share a joke with a girl of some intelligence. Carole was always so dull and half-witted. She brings me home at 5.30 and I see Ernest Blackwell watching us as we kiss in the car. I say I will ring her during the week when I have found some money and she smiles sweetly. God. I've only been on the open market since May 4, and already I'm getting involved. Am I mad?

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Monday August 18, 1975

I seem to be waking up even earlier this week. 8.30am today! Lay in bed contemplating the ceiling until 10.30 when I rouse the two sleeping beauties from their slumbers.

We get a cool drink in the bar before nipping off to the beach, which is far too hot.

Back at the hotel we sit around in the sunshine until lunchtime with yesterday's Sunday Express. Not a very nice newspaper by any means, and I do wish they wouldn't give so much publicity to Reginald Maudling. The little creep is just as much involved in the Poulson Affair as Pottinger was, and I do think his criminal tendencies tend to colour all and everything he says.

The worst thing about this holiday is the food. I realise that we British are a fastidious bunch, but all the same I do think the menu could be improved. Oh, for the joys of Mum's cooking!

After lunch we go downstairs for a drink, and whilst I'm paying the barman John and Chris do one of their disappearing tricks. After searching the hotel from top to bottom I take a beer upstairs where I sit on the balcony to spectate at yet another storm. These Continental storms are only short-lived affairs.

Out on the town as usual after dinner. I meet Diane and Denise in the Manchester Arms, and John and Chris go off on a piss-up. We eat chips galore, and I bring them back to the hotel where, to our amusement, John and Chris crawl past us in an attempt to escape from the two women.

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Sunday July 13, 1975

7th after Trinity. It really is amazing how refreshing a night out at a discotheque can be. It is perfect exercise and I'm sure that one could go on the dance floor at midnight feeling stodgy and short of breath and leave at 2am feeling something like a cross between John Conteh and Erroll Flynn, i.e. perfectly healthy and full of vitality.

Dave L and Christine D were brilliant last night. You should have seen the wrestling match they had on Ilkley Moor! I'm saying no more on the subject.

See in the Sunday Express, that the Duke of Leinster, Britain's longest serving duke, is to make his debut in the House of Lords later this week at the age of 83. He inherited the peerage in 1922, but has been unable to sit in the Lords because he was an undischarged bankrupt until recently.

Don't go for a lunchtime booze with Chris due to lack of funds, and watch TV all day. Carole plagues me again, and I have to go round to 'George's' to shut her up. I can see that she isn't going to be easy to get rid of.

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Sunday February 9, 1975

Quinquagesima. Up at a decent time. Can't quite remember the exact hour, but it was well before lunch. See in the Sunday Express that the Queen has sprained her shoulder while chopping wood, and received treatment for it at a London hair salon. I realise that the Royal Family are in a poor state at the moment, what with scrapping those plans for rebuilding Sandringham. She's seen in the same hat and coat on different occasions over a five or six year period, but never did I imagine that the day would dawn when Her Majesty would be compelled for financial reasons to do her own wood-chopping. Mum says that she thought Auntie Hilda was the only woman alive adept at chopping wood, but evidently all the top people do it now.

Out with John, Andy, Mr Mather and Chris, who is really miserable. Oh, musn't forget Carol S and Miss Dibb too. No CB. Move on to the Station in Yeadon after the Hare & Hounds. John and I go on to Harry Ramsden's for the things people normally go to Harry Ramsden's for, and after devouring them in the car we return home. Too hot to sleep and lay awake for hours thinking of all things under the Sun. Hell, I've missed out the most important thing.

At 11 o'clock tonight John's unnamed girlfriend (Naomi Downing)  paid him a visit! She sat in a drunken heap in the lounge & he promised to go out with her tomorrow - me being the chaperone of course.

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Sunday January 26, 1975

Septuagesima. Feel really rotten all day. The top of my head feels like it's about to explode, spraying my brains from here to Mars. I really wish I hadn't devoured all that drink in such speedy circumstances. Dave Slater is to blame - he must have money to burn.

John and I walk into Guiseley to look at a clapped out, old VW which he thought he'd buy. The look of it makes him decide not to bother. Quite a little wreck it was. Home for lunch feeling a bit better, but my head is still fuzzy.

See in the Sunday Express that Mark Phillips won't accept a title. How do they know? I'm sure that Buckingham Palace haven't informed Mr Burnett that Capt Phillips will not receive a title, and realise that the article is purely the brain-child of a clapped out old dear with fond memories of Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon. Times have changed since 1961.

Chris comes at 3.30 to look through some holiday brochures, but to my horror Lynn informs me that Dave took them with him when he went home last night. Chris isn't bothered and we sit watching an episode of 'The World At War' which seems to have been going on since Douglas-Home was in no.10. The programme that is, not the war. That ended in 1918.

John, Chris, Christine, Carol Smith, Lynn and Dave and self go to the cinema this evening. A clapped out old horror film - so boring. Back home to go through more brochures and Chris leaves with a list with which to do battle with tomorrow. Determined to go abroad no matter what the cost this year.

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Monday December 9, 1974

The morning papers carry a sad story indeed. It seems that the Greeks don't want King Constantine and Queen Anne-Marie back in their rightful place on the Hellenic throne. A referendum held last week shows that the majority are in favour of a republic. Obnoxious it all is. A sad day for monarchists everywhere. The crown in Ethiopia is even more insecure. The imperial family there are being executed right, left and centre, and fears for the life of the tiny emperor, Haile Selassie, are growing. Two thrones collapsing in one year is too sad. The late King Farouk of Egypt told Lord Boyd-Orr in 1951 that 'soon there will be only five kings left. The Kings of Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs and Spades, and the King of England.'

YP all day. Kathleen is better tempered after the weekend. Don't do pictures at all, and just do cuttings. Much more pleasant.

Denny rings at 4.30 to say she is finishing with Adrian tonight because he is being cowardly about the dinner dance.

The Sunday Express yesterday said that the Prince of Wales continues to visit Lady Jane Wellesley at her Fulham home - disguised beneath a false black beard.

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Sunday October 28, 1973

19th after Trinity. (Cartoon of the Prime Minister, the Rt Hon Edward Heath).

The Sunday Express today published an article which said that the Queen and Mr Heath are not on very good terms. The reason for this is that the old boy made no gesture to the Queen concerning a title for Captain Phillips. Utter nonsense! The Queen could make Phillips Duke of London if she wished, and old laugher boy could do nothing to prevent her. Titles in the Royal Family are conferred by the Queen - they're her prerogative. Anyway, it isn't the captain who concerns me at the moment it's poor Anne. Will she become "Princess Royal"? I do hope so.

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Sunday April 22, 1973

Easter Day. Awoke at midday. Watched a rotten film and browsed through the Sunday Express until lunchtime. Really an exquisite lunch. Turkey and a white, medium sweet barsac wine - which I bought from Toffer last night. Mother is certainly an amazing cook.

Later they all went to the lounge and I made the coffee. A rotten film began and so I read the Sunday Express - inside was a good article about the part played by the Queen Mother in the Royal Family over the past 50 years. She truly is a remarkable, lovable, dedicated soul - so natural and unruffled. She knocks Queen Mary into stitches.

Mum and Dad went out at 6.30. Lynn has a new boyfriend - Chris Halliday. She is also going out with Andy Richardson on Friday. Wait till I tell Sue tomorrow. Rang Dave at 7. He picked me and John up at 7.45. Arrived 10 minutes later at the Emmotts. Ivy was in high spirits. June and Sue came shortly afterwards. After half an hour we piled into Dave's car - John and Sue in the back and June on my knee in the front and we went up to our house. Sue was in alone, and we all sat discussing where to go until 9. We decided to go to Shipley - to the Elma nightclub. Sadly on our arrival we were told it was for members only. We then went to Arthington arriving at 9.45 after a cosy ride in the car listening to Radio Luxembourg. Went to to the Wharfedale pub - where we had a couple of drinks - no disco due to it being Easter. What a tip it is! Glad to be back in the car. Took girls to Horsforth arrived at 11 o'clock - June and I kissed goodnight. She is ringing me tomorrow evening. Dave brought us home. Lynn and Sue were entertaining L's boyfriend and his friend, Gary Parry. Dad has previous associations with Gary's "business" type connections. Very embarrassing.

Came to bed at 1 o'clock. Not too tired. We may be all tripping to the Dales on Tuesday. That is if Dave's dad doesn't want the car.

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Sunday February 11, 1973

Dad woke me up with a lovely cup of tea at noon. I sat until 12,30. Had breakfast of bacon and eggs. All the family had a cosy afternoon in front of the TV. John, Lynn, Sue and Dad were watching a Dean Martin/Jerry Lewis film. Mum sat with the Sunday Express. At 4 o'clock I decided to have a bath and wash my hair. By 5 I was suitably spruced up and prepared for my evening on the town with June. We have been going out together for 2 weeks. Today Chris and Louise celebrate one month together. I certainly do not envy Chris.
At home we all watched the final part of Sir Walter Scott's "Woodstock" -drama based on the intrigue surrounding the flight of Charles II from the Battle of Worcester. Obviously, the cavaliers and royalists came out of the whole thing best. At 7.20 I went down the lane in the wind and torrential rain to catch the 7.30 bus which never arrived! I subsequently waited in the broken and dilapidated bus shelter until 8.05. Arrived at the Emmotts at 8.30. June, Linda and Cowie had been there since 8. Chris, Louise and Denise were sitting at the other side of the pub. They came over for a natter at 9.03 - the exact time one month ago that Chris and Lousie began their romance. June looked overpoweringly beautiful as usual - wearing her pretty purple coat with the black fur-lined hood. She almost brought the house down when at 9.30 she purchased a brandy and Babycham at the exorbitant cost of 39p!! Lord, what a price. Cowie and I finished by drinking brandy (23p) - a much more refined flavour than whisky. At about closing time I bumped into Ian Appleyard. He went into the sordid details about his father's death, which occurred last month. Linda said something about "all Guiseley Secondary School boys being the same". What she meant by that I really don't know. At 10.30 we walked to the bottom road. It was very cold and raining. Cowie and Linda went through the usual rigmarole of fighting, then making up, etc. whilst June and I were quite content to be in each others company. We sat there on the same seat as last Sunday not caring about the weather - just one another. June's bus came at 11.10. Cowie and I walked to Westfield where we got a lift from a bloke saying: "it's no night to be out walking". We couldn't have agreed more. I got home at 12 and had some supper and came immediately to bed.

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