20090507

Saturday October 20, 1973

Awakened at 6am by Mrs Ratcliffe. A very cold morning - typical autumn. Waiting outside the Fleece at 6.45, after breakfast of bacon and mushrooms, and it's dark until 7.05. MM is given a lift to the Fleece at 7.10 by his father. The coach arrives not long after. As usual, the seats are far too close together and my knees and neck have to suffer a gruelling 4 hours agony.

Feel very nostalgic when the coach stops in Leicester - it was here where June and I stopped on our way to see the 'Trooping of the Colour' in June.

Arrived London at about 12.30. MM rushes off to Earls Court where he promised to meet Dave at 12. Of course, David didn't turn up, and MM wandered around the Motor Show until 4.30 when he bumped into Philip Cartwright loitering near the Range Rovers.

Andy, John, Chris, Bruno, and myself go to the Tiger Bar on Tower Hill for a so-called lunch which lasts until 2.0. Beer and ham butties - super. By 2.30 we are at the Motor Show after a tiring journey on the underground, where I was accosted by an undesirable gentleman. The puff got off at Kensington, which was of great relief to me.

Spend three hours viewing the new motors. The Rolls were adorable - especially the Rolls Royce Corniche convertable. At 5 we all rushed to Piccadilly - absolutely starved to death. Bruno is on the verge of collapse. By 6 we are settled in a good restaurant - but the service was terrible. The lights of Piccadilly are fantastic - I've never seen London on a night before. Well, I have, so to speak, but that was in 1968, and I don't remember much.

At 8 we are back in the Tiger Bar. To my knowledge I drank five Pernods, four Cinzanos, 1 whisky and a pint - you won't believe it, but I wasn't even drunk. Chris wasn't feeling too well and he was also quite sober. Everyone else was quite gone.

Saw a beautiful tart, almost naked, dancing to "Ooh That Lady" by the Isley Brothers. She was in a cage suspended in the air.

The singing on the coach was amusing but disgusting - all the other passengers were sober and our party was something of an embarrassment. Photographed at Leicester. Meanwhile, Philip C was sick on the coach - but it was the very pleasant smell of pure Pernod!

Back in Horsforth for 4am. Deep, deep sleep.

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Friday October 19, 1973

The girl of the week is undoubtedly the delightful Laura. My heart goes out to the darling creature tonight, wherever she may be. And if I know Laura, she could certainly be in some places!

But first, a note of tragedy. The two month liaison of Mr Christopher H. Ratcliffe and Miss Marita Fountain is over. The couple, who met at a party in August, separated after nasty scenes in a high-class bar last Sunday. It's the worst thing to happen since Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor separated last July.

My last day at BP. Totally unmoved.

John and I go to the Emmotts where we are joined by the gang. See Dear Denny, who enjoyed herself tremendously on a four-day official visit to Barcelona. She was with the German boyfriend. Sit with Ivy for half an hour, and then with darling Laura, who is hilariously drunk by 10. She joins Bruno, Chris, Andy and myself for a series of dirty jokes - she comes out with several pearls of her own.

The laugh of the month came when Laura tells us that she has a 19 year-old pet rabbit who lives in the garden and drinks warm whisky on his daily helping of porridge! I die with laughter. Within minutes Marita confirms this tale, adding that the pet is also in the 'Guinness Book of Records'.

Alas, poor Laura, in her drunken state, accepts a lift from two strange men, and we don't see her again.

Marita was unmoved at the fact that Chris had finished with her. Indeed, she gave Chris, myself and Chris Ashton at lift to Andy's house. We leave at 11.10 and I stay the night at Chris's. Listen to Tamla, in bed, on headphones.

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Thursday October 18, 1973

Nearly my last day at Benton Park. Feel very nervous because I have to tell old Ayling that I am leaving him. All the girls in the Economics class are gleeful about my discomfort! Poor Helen Taylor begins crying when she learns that I am leaving. It wouldn't be so bad but for the fact that I don't like her. I'd have her under my thumb if I fancied her in any way - BUT I DON'T! NO! SHE'S NOT MY BLOODY TYPE. JUST MY BLOODY LUCK!

All the girls I have ever fancied do not fancy me, and vice versa. Even dear June hated me. And what did I ever do to make her hate me? Bugger all! I was a bloody saint with that girl....

See 'Top of the Pops' on tv. That programme is sure going down hill! Poor Tony Blackburn is cracking up. I'll give him till Christmas before his mind finally goes - poor soul. He was so good when he was on Radio 1, way back in the days of the good old Detroit Spinning Emeralds. Poor bugger - he so much wanted his CBE.

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Wednesday October 17, 1973

It does seem odd knowing that ones future is secured at last. I am eighteen and a half and it's only now that I know what lies ahead of me. Blimey, John had his future career all tied up at 15. Anyway, it's been worthwhile. After all, just look what wonderful things I've achieved since going on to further education in September, 1971. I've added two 'O' levels to my already magnificent collection of certificates; I met June; I gathered a vast number of new friends too numerous to mention. Blimey, I've done everything! The experience must be worth a million. Yes Siree! I would never change anything for the world.

Today I told Groves of my intentions. He was of the opinion that I should leave school, just in case I make a complete mess of the 'A' level. He gives me his blessing, adding something to the effect that 'the old place won't be the same without you!' Silly bugger! Of course it won't! How can Benton Park be the same without Michael L. Rhodes?

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20090506

Tuesday October 16, 1973

Believe it or not, Mum woke me at 7.30 bringing me out of a dream where I arrived for my interview at the Yorkshire Post a whole four hours late! Also, in the dream, Len Fairclough of 'Coronation Street' was in a lift with a machine gun! What a ridiculous dream. Quite frankly, I don't know what's come over me lately.

Arrive in Leeds at 9.40 having travelled for one and a quarter hours. One would think I had come from Arabia, and not lil' ol' Guiseley. On my arrival at the Yorkshire Post I go see a Mr Austin-Clarke, the boss. He gives me the job immediately and asks me to start on Monday! The pay is £17.50, and with four weeks holiday per year that can't be bad. Leave the building jubilantly at 10.34.

To go to the city centre. Spend half an hour in WH Smith's. Get a 55 bus at 11.10. Home by noon.

Mr Blackwell rings me and asks me to pass on a message to Mrs Blackwell. The old girl isn't in residence.

When Mum arrives home I tell her of my joyous news - she thinks it's great. So does Papa when he arrives home at 2.0. I don't bother going into school, and clean out my room instead.

The Daily Mail is, this week, publishing colour photographs of Princess Anne. A build up to the wedding which is to be televised from 7.30am to 3pm. No previous royal wedding received such lengthy coverage. The last really big royal wedding was Princess Margaret and Snowdon, but Princess Alexandra had a fair sized one in '63. Blimey, don't talk to me about the Gloucesters! An anti-social lot that bunch are. Prince Richard didn't even have St Margaret's, which is the next best thing to the abbey. Oh no! He had a rotten old village hall in Barnwell, Northamptonshire.

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20090505

Monday October 15, 1973

Crawl out of my lovely warm bed at 8.10am. Lynn is yelling at me to get up. I stagger downstairs and eat my breakfast wondering where Mother can be. At 8.30 I discover, to my surprise, that she's in bed with some sort of illness - upset tummy. Leave for school on the 9 o'clock 55. The weather is lousy once again and by the time I arrive at school I am rather wet. I sit all day with Christine and Glynnis Margerison - a plain but hilarious girl. In Economics Ayling carries on about people who think that 'the Economist magazine is politically biased.' Poor Pauline Barlow realised he was getting at her. Such a laugh. But the bugger cannot con me. We all know that 'The Economist' is a fascist rag. During the lesson I speak to Miss Helen Taylor (the girl who is crazy about me and I apologise for the change in ink colour). She says that the Wyndham-Logg memoirs are 'very amusing'. I don't know why, but the word amusing immediately prints onto my mind the image of Queen Victoria. 'Amusing' is such a very middle-class word. I would have preferred Miss Taylor to have said 'very funny', or something equally amusing. Later. See tv until 11.30. Bed at a quarter to 12. Arrgghh! Blimey O'Reilly! Chris rang twice. At the second call be brought tidings of a spine-chilling nature.__________________. --==--

Sunday October 14, 1973

Wake up having had another dream about June. She had written to me asking me to forgive her. Me forgive her! My God it should be vice versa. I must have been a swine, a real swine!

A typical lazy Sunday. Andy doesn't ring about the swimming baths. John and I sit in the lounge listening to Jimmy Savile on the radio. Mother is preparing lunch and the girls do homework.

Later: after an excellent chicken lunch we watch Sidney Poitier in the film 'Lillies of the Field' - very amusing in places.

Chris rings at 7 o'clock. John decides to have a night out with Chris and Andy - females prohibited.

I stay at home and see a programme on tv about why we laugh, but the end result is more of a programme concerned with what we laugh at, completely different to what the title suggests.

Mum and Dad and the girls go to Pudsey at about 7.30 and do not return until about 1.30. I sit watching the tv until it closes down and then compile a letter to June asking her to see me again, and will post it tomorrow.

Do not get to sleep until about 2.30. I feel listless and completely useless really.

Oh dear. When John and Chris arrived at the Emmotts they encountered Marita, poor soul, and Laura. Chris hadn't told Marita he was going out. Chaos and pandemonium followed. The girls walked out. Is this the end of Chris and Marita? I do hope not. M is such a nice old girl.

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Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...