Saturday January 13, 1979

Dave (Glynn) and I had breakfast with Sue. Poor Mum is in bed with an upset stomach & so she didn't surface all day. Pale and ghastly.

Dave and I had a little pub crawl in Guiseley. We had one at the Yorkshire Rose where an OAP told us that his Jack Russell terrier is pregnant. A tart in the bar referred to the landlord as "you big fat twat". Yes, a nice, tasteful atmosphere prevailed. We made our way to the incredibly dull Regent and finally, at 2:45pm, onto the Station Hotel.

Snow and ice underfoot was something of a hazard to begin with but the more we drank the more confident we became negotiating the glassy footpaths like John Currie and Robin Cousins.{I suspect both these gents are close friends of Jeremy Thorpe, MP}.

Tonight: to Burley~in~Wharfedale with Dave, Sue & Pete to see Lynn and Dave B. The Bakers both looked as fit as butcher's dogs - especially Lynn who is pink and 'radiating'. We all piled into the Red Lion following a pantomime on ice in the car park there. Boozed solidly until 11 o'clock and then took fish & chips back to Lawn Road . We laughed at the fact that for the purposes of the kitty Dave and I were classed as a 'couple'.

We drank until about 1:30am & then Susie and Pete staggered off to the spare bedroom for a further instalment of the wildest pre~marital experience since Anthony & Cleopatra.

Dave B collapsed onto the sofa and didn't bat an eyelid until after 3 leaving Dave G, Lynn and I singing along to Nat King Cole's greatest hits. Dave B makes a regular habit of slipping into a convenient coma at every available opportunity. He hops off to bed or collapses into a medium sized heap on the carpet. Good old Dave. He thrust a £10 note into my hot, grasping hand when I said I wanted to buy a pair of shoes on Monday. (I shall, of course, let him have it back next week). But isn't it marvellous of him to 'see me right'? A real brother is David Baker, a real brother.

Lynn finally carried her husband off to bed and Dave G and I slept in the lounge (or sitting room depending on how posh you happen to be). It was 3:30am, I think.

-=-

Saturday May 20, 1978

Sun rises 5:02 Sun sets 20:53

Out of bed at 11am to finish painting the lounge fireplace, yes the fireplace. It took most of the day and my sole companion on this adventure was Alan Freeman on Radio 1.

The highlight of the afternoon was when the legs of the television, with my help, gave way and capsized. Most people in the land were watching the England v. Scotland football match on their sets, but mine was upside down, covered in emulsion paint. It was an experience that neither the telly or I will forget lightly.

Met Jacq in Guiseley at 8 and had a drink in the Yorkshire Rose. She was clad in red and black which was attractive. From the above mentioned weird tavern we made our way to the Crown at Yeadon where we tarried until 11.

Philip Knowles and Co, plus Naomi, Rick Hartley and mob were merry-making, but no parties for afterwards seem to have been planned. I was horrified when Jacq mentioned seeing Naomi at Tony's party. I wasn't aware that Miss Downing had been to the party. Oh, I was so pissed. Phil Hewitt's sister who works behind the bar, is a nice girl.

At 11 we returned to Pine Tops. The two of discussed going abroad to seek our fortunes next year. Do you get the feeling that you've heard all this somewhere before? Yes, but now is the time, Michael!


-=-

Saturday April 15, 1978

Moon's first quarter 14:56

Sun rises 06:06

Sun sets 19:57

Quite revolting. What words can adequately describe the horror of a furry tongue, and eye balls like mushy peas in a sea of blood? My throat resembled the floor of the Black Hole of Calcutta. To make matters worse Jacq and I were compelled to walk to within one mile of Burley-in-Wharfedale in blazing sunshine, to suffer the agony of scraping walls, helping to demolish walls, and such like for almost eight hours. No Jew in any of the luxurious Russian labour camps can ever have suffered like poor Jacq and I did. And all this for no reward of any kind. Truly, we did a great Christian thing this day. "To labour and not to ask for any reward save that of knowing we do thy will ~ Amen".

At about 12 Jacq and I took a lunch break and devoured fish and chips and supped one meagre drink in the Red Lion. We laughed a good deal because we were so exhausted and couldn't stop ourselves.

Back at Lawn Road we were joined by John who talked a good deal of mumbo jumbo with David. At 5 my dear brother brought Jacq and I home. He's lending me a suit for Gina's wedding next week.

Peter, yes Peter Nason, made pork chops, &c for dinner, and we all ate at about 6pm. I almost fell to sleep across the table.

Jacq and I went down to the bus stop with every intention of going into Leeds to watch 'Close Encounters of a Third Kind' at the Odeon cinema. We stood for an hour an no omnibus came and so once again we had to resort to consuming booze. The Yorkshire Rose, our first port of call, then on foot to Yeadon and the Clothiers. We had a quick dash round Yeadon Fair, which was ridiculously muddy, before heading down Henshaws Lane to the Woolpack Inn.


The Woolpack.

A couple of drinks later we decided to call it a day. Neither of us had been bounding around with joy and a lifeless expression hung over our gaunt features. At about 10:30 Jacq got a Leeds bus and I walked home. It was a pleasant evening and I bounded home under the twinkling stars.

-=-

Thursday March 30, 1978

Without further ado I picked up the phone, dialled a Guiseley number, spoke to a polite young bank clerk (female) and made an appointment to see the manager tomorrow concerning a personal loan. Barclaycard is going for good, and tomorrow may see the dawn of a new era. A Brave New World in fact. Tonight I met Christine at the Drop and my financial position was the principal topic of conversation. Hilarity. I was clad in my tight 31" inside leg jeans which, according to Christine, makes me look like a puff. We howled about it. My half mast trousers, she says, remind her of the Union flag over St Paul's Cathedral at Sir Winston Churchill's funeral. I do like short jeans though and CB isn't the fashion correspondent of the Yorkshire Post. I take no notice of others when it comes to fashion, sex, good looks, &c. From the Drop we made our way to the Yorkshire Rose. Even Christine detects a weird, eerie atmosphere in this ancient place of refreshment. I have proclaimed for years that something is seriously amiss in the tap room here, and the sight of ailing veterans of the Somme and Ypres chatting up 14 and 15 year-olds is quite nauseating. (The Somme and Ypres were World War I battle grounds, in case you're too young to know). Christine moaned about one of her ears being out of action, but otherwise it was all sunshine, champagne and dafodils. I deposited the sweet child onto a bus at 10:45 and made my way home laden with fish and chips. The Thursday night Nason/Blackwell session was in full swing. -=-

Saturday March 6, 1976

Lynn's 'Coming of Age' party at the Yorkshire Rose.

Carole and I spent the whole afternoon buying Lynn's present and finding something suitable for John & Maria. The strain imposed on us by this harrowing shopping nightmare did nothing to make either of us better natured, and by 3 o'clock - after 3 solid hours walking around Leeds - we were near to blows.

We bought John and Maria a dinner service for £13.50 and I was compelled to haul the whole lot around numerous boutiques and ladies fashion boudoirs. My arms were just about paralised by 4.30. Home we came on a 33 bus and we parted company on icy, cold terms. I rang Dad from the call box on Fieldhead Road and he drove me home.

Everyone is busy at home. Jackie is the first guest to arrive at about 5.30. Met Carole - who looks adorable - at 6.20 off a bus at the bottom of the lane, and we have a few drinks at home before leaving for the Yorkshire Rose at 7.30.

The party is a success. Jackie is stunned to see the bruises on Carole's arm that had been done by her revolting father. We had to tell Jackie who'd done it because she was looking straight at me as though I'd been battering her about.

Lynn made a nice little speech from a table top amidst the remnants of half eaten cheese sandwiches and sausage rolls.

I've no idea what time the family returned home, but I do know it was after 2am when Uncle Harry found himself locked in the cellar of the Yorkshire Rose. We all had a tremendous piss-up at our place and were still grooving away at 4am.

Cousin Jackie and I were in hysterics when Uncle Harry accidentally set fire to his trousers, and I just about choked.

--===-=

Monday March 1, 1976

St David's Day. Quite a busy day at work without Kathleen or Carol J. Arrange with Sarah for Mum to visit Delia tonight to discuss floral arrangements for the wedding.

See in 'The Times' that Georgiana Russell, an old girlfriend of the Prince of Wales is joining the ranks of the betrothed. The prince really should start thinking about finding a wife because all the elegible young ladies are falling. The likes of Rosie Clifton and Lady Henrietta FitzRoy and many more. Jane Wellesley won't do at all, and Angela Nevill is just about the only dish on the hot-plate.

Home at 5. Dad shows me a report from his accountant about the Henry Jenkins pub. He's been advised to offer £30,000 for it. They're going over tomorrow to sort things out and I wish them all the luck.

Go to the Yorkshire Rose with Mum & Dad and they book Lynn's party for Saturday for definate. We then go up to West End Lane to Sarah's and Mum does some arranging with Delia whilst Lucy the dog mauls me and Dad. Leave at about 8.30 - 9 o'clock.

Back at home Carole rings. We arrange to meet for tea at our place tomorrow. I see a clapped out old film on the BBC and watch the late night news before going off to bed at about midnight.

Well, March is upon us once more and I would never have imagined that this month could hold so many events of historic consequence.

--==--

Saturday January 24, 1976

I am in a state of great shock and acute excitement. Carole left at 10 o'clock before I got up and I didn't stir until 12.

John went off to see Andy at the Station on Henshaw Lane and I did nothing at all until lunchtime.

Dave L rang and I was surprised to hear he's home for the weekend. God knows what he'll be doing tonight because Linda hasn't invited him to her 21st.

Carole rings at 2.30, or 3 o'clock and John and I go round to Maria's. Richard Wellock and a friend are there supping tea and Carole is looking shifty, and I wonder what the Hell is wrong. Richard and friend go and Carole and I are left alone listening to the Santana LP. Mr & Mrs Mac go out and John and Maria are sitting in the dining room.

Carole looked at me and said: "We didn't go shopping to Leeds this morning, you know." I replied "what did you do then?" And she said: "It's something to do with Maria." I felt my knees knocking together. The truth rushed over me like a waterfall. She is pregnant. John's going to be a daddy in August, and I am going to be an uncle. I cannot describe the emotion of it all. Happiness mixed with a reserved sense of doom. He will be 20 in September and Maria will be 18 in July. What Mum will say I just cannot imagine.

At the Yorkshire Rose for Linda's 21st John and Maria announce that they are getting engaged next Saturday. Chris and a few others soon find out that she's pregnant, and Peter M is upset that John won't be able to go on holiday with us in July. Get drunk, and go back afterwards to Maria's until 2.30. They're telling her parents tomorrow and so I'll make myself scarce before the announcement.

And to think that last Wednesday I was joking with Maria about her being pregnant and now it's all true.

-==-

Monday June 9, 1975

A beautiful summer day, but it's back to work for the working classes. Nothing really devastating in the news other than the rehearsal for Saturday's Trooping the Colour. The Prince of Wales, in the guise of colonel of the Welsh Guards, took the salute in the place of the Queen, who never attends her own rehearsals.

Sarah is back from Spain looking quite tanned, and I can't say I'm not pleased to see her once again. Things just don't seem right without her around. Like all my relationships, the one with Sarah is platonic, only more so.

Later that night: John drags me off to the Yorkshire Rose for a quick one, then down to the Hare for another quick one, then home and sat in front of the TV before 9.30. Not bad going, eh?

-==-