Thursday May 4, 1978

Ascension Day ~ Holy Thursday

A wet, deluged day. At 4pm I was in the predicament of having no transport (at least until a train at 5:17) and so Sarah ferried me to the polling station at Hawksworth where I cast my vote for Willie Hudson, the current Lord Mayor. The rain will ensure that the Conservatives are re-elected (Council elections).

At 5 we went back to Sarah's where we had haddock flan for tea with Delia and Granny Ireson. Bill Collis was in residence but he said very little. We discussed Llandudno (of all places) and he advised me never to venture into Wales, adding with emphasis: 'it isn't worth it.'

It is incredible just how incompatible Delia, Bill, Sarah and family are together.They'd all kill one another without a minutes hesitation if it wasn't for the fact it's so convenient for them to carry on under the same roof. ________.

Delia remains at the top of my favourite 'Ladies Over 45' list. From this lofty height she will never fall.

I cancelled a dental appointment scheduled for this evening to sample a slice of Delia's 'nice piece of haddock' (bought in case you're interested at Cowley's fishmongers in Headingley).

At 8, Sarah, Delia, Mrs Whittington (yes, "Turn again, Dick" and all that)went to the pub in Wetherby where we had a riot last September after the 'do' at Harewood House.

Home, very sober, at 11 to find the whole house in uproarious, drunken revelry. The Nasons, Edith & Ernest, David B's Uncle Tony (Baker) from Nigeria, and a very drunken Lynn.

Bed at 4am after listening to records using the headphones.

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Saturday September 17, 1977

I have very strange thoughts about the events of last night. Sarah became so ridiculously miserable _______. From what I remember of our visit to Wetherby Delia and I were eating carnations and slapping turkeys before we left for home. (For some reason a very large, uncooked turkey was sitting in the bath in the upstairs loo of the private flat of the pub where we made merry).

Turkey slapping ....

I was up at 9.30 and expected a call from Delia about returning to Harewood for coffee, but the summons never arrived. Had a bath and left at 12.30 for Stockport.

I was in Manchester by 2.30 and managed to get through the blockade of Manchester Utd fans who were attempting to sabotage the Lord Mayor's Parade. I got lost in Stockport and arrived at the Hollywood after 4pm. Dave G was awakened from his afternoon slumbers and he greeted me with yawns and bleariness of eye.

Tonight to Stockport County Club with Dave, Steve B, Garry B, and Bill (Wright). Bill is one of the most hilarious people I have ever met. We just acted wild and really daft. At one point an act on the stage just stopped to watch us lads performing. In tears laughing. Mind you, it doesn't take Agatha Christie to fathom that the drink intake was at the bottom of the cause of this revelry. Back to the Hollywood at 2.30 not that I can remember anything about it. Stockport always guarantees severe intoxication and in most cases, paralysis. Visits here should perhaps be banned. Perhaps Margaret Thatcher will put a stop to it all next autumn.

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Saturday June 18, 1977

Things aren't half quiet without Tony on the scene. I only hope his stay in Bishop Stortford will do him some good.

I didn't get out of bed until almost 12 and set off immediately down the lane on my Father's Day/Wedding anniversary present purchasing expedition. My first port of call was Maria's where I persuaded her to hold over her mail order catalogue money until Thursday so giving me an extra £4 for the parties ahead. Carole was there ironing of all things. She was quiet. By about 4 the both of us were in Guiseley. I  escorted her to her bus at the White Cross. No kisses or signs of affection from either of us and I just say I'll phone in the week.

Got a couple of boxes of chocolates for tomorrow's events and then went to meet John on Thorpe Lane. He's doing up the old Moffat residence for Pamela and her intended. He's the strong silent type is John.

Ernest: home brew adviser.

Mum and Dad have started the wine making lark. When I set out for Wetherby at 6.30 Ernest Blackwell was lecturing them on how best to bottle your hock.

Arrived in Leeds at 7.15 and got to Wetherby for about 8pm. We all congregated in one of the local pubs and moved on to the Town Hall at about 9. Sarah was with John MacMurray and they looked odd together but he's more pleasant than queer old Peter Baker.

The party is quite incredible really. Chris had laid on a 'spread' but it had all been devoured, but the barrels of Theakston's beer were still to be had in profusion. A punk rock group entertained in the ballroom and they invited the party goers to be sick on the highly polished floor. The local aristocracy seem to be thickly spread and several military gents with handle-bar moustaches were competing with the likes of me over the dwindling contents of the barrels of ale. Sarah didn't enjoy it and plotted with Ursula to leave early and at 11 we hurried off to Aberford to have coffee at the McDermott pile. I didn't really want to leave the party at all but it was a choice between a lift back to Guiseley or bed at the Monckton cottage - and the latter hadn't been confirmed anyway. At one time I would have told Sarah to sod it, but I'm 22 now. Goodnight all.

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Sunday April 24, 1977

2nd after Easter. Arose at 12. Edith Blackwell had just been in and Mama had entertained her to breakfast of eggs and bacon of all things. A peculiar thing to do I must say. Mind you, Edith is a peculiar old thing. (Yes, you've guessed correctly - "thing" is the word of the day).

I came down and had a cooked thing and went back up to my thingy and filled in the thing with that thingummy. Thing, Thing and Thing are covered in grease underneath John's thing on the drive. Those bleeding things never work right. I for one wouldn't have the patience to mess around with them. Not rellishing the idea of going into the thing this afternoon. No doubt thing will have left me a note informing me of a proposed catastrophic change in my social life. No Bloody chance, Kathleen!

The Hon Chris Monckton

Sue and I walked round to Ridgeway and took JPH for a ride, walk, push, call it what you will, in his pram. Jimmy was marking essays and breaking wind. He blamed the beer he'd had of late. Maria bundled baby up and Sue and I walked him in the sun up Thorpe Lane and to Pine Tops where he was pandered to and played with by his doting grandmama until his benevolent Uncle Mike returned him home at 4.

To work after dinner. Ursula confirms that Kathleen's plans for Friday nights are as sinister as I thought they were.

Chris Monckton invited me to his Silver Jubilee party at Wetherby Town Hall on June 18. I must go to that one. He has a sister you know and I'm sure a 'Hon' in the family would prove quite refreshing. The Hon Miss Monckton is about my age too.

Home by taxi at 11. The taxi driver talks of the death of the Leeds Rugby League player Sanderson who died on the pitch this afternoon during a skirmish with Salford players.

To my bedroom at 11.30 with Queen Victoria's correspondence with the Empress Frederick and vice versa, 1865-1871.

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Wednesday June 16, 1976

Take a half day. Meet Marita and Denise in Leeds at 12.30 and go to Parker's (Wine Bar). Have a Scotch egg which cost me 35p and a pint of lager. Thirty-five pence for a solitary boiled egg wrapped in sausage meat! Poor Marita is compelled to return to work at 1.30 & Miss Akroyd and myself purchased a bottle of wine and sat for another hour or so. Marilyn (Wheeler) was in with a woman I presumed to be her mother and I could see her looking at Denise. No doubt she'll be reporting to Mrs Johnson tonight.

Denise and I chat about very little really. Feel bored and tired. She says she is taking her mother to the Canary Islands on July 11, and not going away with Carole after all. Plans were well underway, but Miss Phillips rang her yesterday to say she couldn't get the same holiday dates as Denise after all. They're off to the Edwardian Club to a 21st (birthday party) on Friday night. I nearly vomit at the mention of the place. What is more, Carole's told Denise that it's a 'classy' discotheque! Get home at 5.30 and eat a hearty meal. Blimey, I forgot to mention that after we left Parker's we ventured into the city museum and art gallery for a couple of hours. Cultured buggers, we are.

Chris rings at 6.30 to see if I'm going out and I say yes. Lynne isn't out but I'll ring her tomorrow to see if she can fit me in on Saturday. Write her a letter and go put it in her hands when Chris and I go collect Pete. Go to the Scott's Arms and the Three Legs at Wetherby. Chris tells me he is madly in love with Denise and would do anything for her - even marriage! God Almighty! It's just like been seventeen all over again!

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