20090507

Monday October 22, 1973

Get the train to Leeds. See Judith Rushworth who laughs at the fact that I am not nervous about my first day at work. I must be funny that way.

Arrive at the YP at ten to 9. Sit about waiting until about 10, when some sort of personnel chappie drags us off (three of us) to a lecture, followed by a free lunch in the canteen. I do not meet the library staff until after 2 o'clock.

The other troops:

Kathy, 30, spinster, quite attractive with specs. Nicely spoken - good sense of humour.

Sarah, attractive, sophisticated, 20 year-old; unmarried, dark hair, expensive looking clothes, good make-up, childish voice, looks spoilt.

Janice, 18 year-old, typical Yorkshire girl. Looks very young, south Yorkshire accent, engaged to be married, down to earth, well meaning, no beauty. You always know where you stand with her.

Carol. Married. 20 years-old. Speaks with a plum in her mouth but is very unsophisticated, fat, immature, hates authority, work-shy, frustrated doing what she's doing thinking it's a waste of time.

Certainly a diversified bunch. I like Kathy, Sarah and Janice in that order. My opinions were formed immediately. I was shocked to find that Kathy was 30, thinking she was 23 or 24. She'll make a good boss.

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Sunday October 21, 1973

18th after Trinity. Awoke at 11 when my camp bed collapsed. My throat is too dry to describe. Take no breakfast.

Mr & Mrs Ratcliffe go to Leeds leaving Chris, his little brother, and myself with a full tea-pot and plenty of unwanted toast and the Jimmy Savile Show.

Darling Denny rings and asks us to pay her a visit this afternoon - we both agree. Ring Mum at 12 who is disappointed that I won't be home for lunch. I do suppose that John will be home for the communal meal.

Mr Ratcliffe takes Chris and I to Denny's at 1pm. We sit about listening to 'Pink Floyd' (Ugh) until nearly 5 o'clock. Get a lift home from one of Denny's gentleman friends at 5-ish. Mum is slightly disgruntled.

Auntie Hilda and family arrive for tea. Pleasant evening. Not particularly nervous about tomorrow's step forward in the history of British civilization - yes, me starting work with Yorkshire Post Newspapers Ltd.

P.S. A certain young lady was christened 23 years ago today. Yes, our very own Princess Anne.

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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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Thursday April 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11 My 29th birthday. Up at 7 feeling awful. Sitting in bed Ally gave me a pink and blue tie and a card with a frog on ...