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Monday November 18, 1974

Uneventful day really. At the YP nothing of tremendous import happens other than the reconcilliation in the marriage of Michael and Carol Johnson. However, if you want my opinion, the rot has already set in and the cancerous growth will eat away at the relationship. Once the seeds of destruction are sown very little can be done to prevent germination. Sarah, Carol and I bet on the mysterious Earl of Lucan. Sarah and I say he is now dead, but Carol says he's alive. On Christmas Eve, going by information received from now until then, 10p each is at stake between the three of us. The police aren't mad. If His Lordship is alive and on the run in Britain he deserves to get away with it, after all this time.

See a film on the TV tonight 'Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice' which doesn't attempt to be realistic at all. Quite frightening though. Bed at 11.30 after hearing strange noises coming from the direction of the garden. I think it was Mrs Smith looking for poor Ricki, who is stone deaf. (Ricki is a 11 year-old Spaniel dog).
Have I told you already what Carol Smith has been saying to Dave Baker when she rings him every night?

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Sunday November 17, 1974

23rd after Trinity. Death of Mary I in 1558, and accession of Queen Elizabeth I. Beautiful day again. Up at 11.30 with no ill-effects from yesterday's Cow & Calf excursion. Go driving with Harry at 12 for an hour and do better than yesterday's horrific drama, which did little or no good to the car, pupil or instructor. Back home for lunch of bacon and eggs, an unusual mid-day meal for Sunday, but Mum's excuse is that Papa is decorating. After lunch I persuade John to let me loose in the 1100 and we spend a pleasant couple of hours on the road. Go to Horsforth, and tour the actual test route for an hour, then decide to visit Chris, who is staying with Denise at The Grange. I drive to Arthington where we find Denny with her boyfriend, Adrian. He's a tall (not quite my size) fair chap, of few words. Not a very pleasant afternoon, and we only stayed for one cup of coffee, and believe you me, one cup of Lorraine Akroyd's coffee is enough for any normal person to tolerate.

Home before darkness sets in too much, and we're surprised to see the little car of Uncle Harry parked on the drive. Harry stays to tea which consists of salmon sandwiches, then goes off with Mum and Dad to Addingham for the usual booze-up. John, Chris, Carol and myself go to the Hare and then the Commercial. We have a serious evening discussing everything from pre-marital sex to marriage and abortion. Back home for coffee, and so too is David, Lynn, Sue and Peter. Harry and the dear parents join us and we freak out with parnsip wine in the dining room. Dancing goes on for hours. Have beans at about 2.30 and then come to bed after seeing off Uncle Harry who, according to Dad, was the greatest policeman in West Yorkshire before turning to alcohol.

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Saturday November 16, 1974

Henry III died 1272. Nice to have Saturday morning off. Wake at 10 with the sun blazing through the bedroom window - a brilliant morning. Dad is playing about in the kitchen erecting a new cupboard. John and I decide to go to Yeadon for a spot of shopping and we prowl around the record shop and try to find a bag of sugar in Morrison's which is like trying to fins a haydle in a neestack. Discover that 'due to panic buying' no sugar is obtainable.

Back home I discover lashings of hot broth & dumplings - having had no breakfast I was famished. Mum and Sue go to Bradford after lunch and I sit in front of the TV awaiting my faithful driving instructors arrival. See the beginning and the end of 'Pride and Prejudice'. The noble Lord Olivier appears in the film at the ridiculously early age of 20 or 21.

The ladies come back from Bradford at the disgustingly late hour of 7pm. John and I hurry through piles of tomato sandwiches, laced with the occasional lump of cheese. Dear Denny rings and says she's honouring us with her presence at this evening's orgy at the Cow & Calf. We all meet in the Hare & Hounds and Denny looks gorgeous after all these weeks of seclusion. She tells me that her new boyfriend is called Adrian. He's 19 and he's got blond hair. I have her on about him. The ______are the biggest pair of bitches to inhabit the hills and valleys of the County of York since the likes of Barbara Castle and Coun Joan de Carteret, sometime Lord Mayor of Leeds, dwelled in the area. Denny and I are alone all evening and it makes a pleasant deviation from the usual male companionship which is a bore. Drink lager all night and John brings Christine Dibb and myself home at 2.30.

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Friday November 15, 1974

Quite busy at the YP. Mrs Collis rings in the morning to say Sarah is ill in bed. My delightful Sarah unwell!
Later: Have a fantastic time in the Commercial after starting off at the Hare & Hounds of course. Lynn and Dave, Carol, Phyllis Whitethighs, Keith, John and myself all stood in a bundle near the bar, laughing and joking. Phyllis kept saying it was her 19th birthday. I kissed her that number of times on the lips, and so did Keith, but he really did believe it was her birthday, so he's got some excuse at least. I drink campari and lager until we get to Wikis when I switch to bitter, which is quite putrifying. Very boring at Wikis, and I'm sick of seeing ______trying to grab all she can get in the idiotic stupor she's regularly in these days. To avoid the hideousness of drunken females I switched tables and sat until 2am with little Helen Willis, and three other unknown couples. Gillian Barker was of course near at hand. At 2 I escorted Helen to the door, but conveniently having no coat I am unable to walk her home. It's a cold night and I obtain a lift with John - Christine Dibb occupying the back seat. John and I argue about drinks on our arrival home and we wake Mama from her slumbers. She's not at all pleased by our disturbing conversation. Bed at 2.30.

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Thursday November 14, 1974

William III born 1650. The Prince of Wales born 1948. I hate British weather. Yesterday would have been a lot nicer if todays little sunny periods had given an orange glow above the sogginess of Bradford. Never again will I believe this talk about 'Queen's weather'. The sun simply ignored Her Majesty yesterday.

Busy at the YP. Anne, who departed our company in June, paid us a visit after lunch, and was her usual boisterous self. I got on perfectly well with Anne, though I did disagree with the way she wielded her authority as deputy librarian, over the library staff. After all, Sarah has worked in the department for 5 years and at 21 was quite capable of making Kathleen an admirable deputy.

Lynn goes mad after tea when she sees in the EP that Alison's Dad is now regional manager of the Southampton area. How could Al possibly have such information without conveying it to Lynn? But seriously, Lynn is rather upset at the thought of seeing Alison depart to the south of England without so much as a by your leave. Alison Dixon is a gorgeous creature and only the person of Martyn Cole Eesquire keeps me from her side. My passions are at a high level indeed when I see the diminutive, blond creature, in her black necklace, reclining on our settee.

Collapse with the hysteria put about by the 'Monty Python' crowd on the BBC. Sue and I have exactly the same sense of humour. We dissolved in the kitchen for about half an hour after the programme had finished.

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Wednesday November 13, 1974

Edward III, born 1312. Glorious day, excluding the weather. Up with the larks at 7.30 and everyone thinks I'm mad when I insist on going into Bradford to see the Queen's progress through the city. Her Majesty last came here in 1954 so it's not every day that one receives the opportunity to stand about for four and a half hours in pouring rain making a fool of oneself. The Queen arrived at 10.15 and she came into my view fifteen minutes after her arrival. Dressed in peach coloured orange with a matching hat she looked beautiful. And beautiful isn't the wrong word here. On TV or in photographs one wouldn't say this 48 year-old woman looked 'beautiful' but when ones receives the opportunity to see her in the flesh, her radiance and fantastic complexion knocks all sense of reason out of one. Got a thorough soaking, and in order to dry out I went to Denny's and the warmth of WH Smith's. We decide to go for lunch together, and at 12 we meet her friend, Lucy, who shares a flat with Judith B, my passion in June/July. We are caught up in a crowd near the Town Hall and before we know what is happening we are in the midst of one of the Queen's 'walkabouts'. A massive crowd shrouds her from our view, but by leaping about at regular intervals I get a view of the Queen and can hear her voice as she speaks to people in the crowd. You can imagine how emotional Denny was. And even Lucy, who didn't look interested at first, went away with a brand new lease of life. The girls go back to work at 1pm and I wait outside the Town Hall (flying the Royal Standard) whilst the Queen lunches. At 2 a massive crowd is gathered to see the Queen's departure for Halifax. An unforgetable, fantastic day.

Home at 3 to devour six pancakes and see 'The Forsyte Saga' on TV... followed by an hour long soak in the bath. See a film which shows a woman giving birth in the opening scenes 'Silly Cow' or something, they called it. An appropriately crude title.

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Tuesday November 12, 1974

Rhoda Wilson born 1850. Eileen and I go into town at lunchtime where I buy a film for her camera. I expect to capture several shots of Her Majesty during tomorrow's royal progress through the streets of Bradford. Can't wait.

Pleasant afternoon. Take two pictures of the girls. Sarah is a darling. She tells me her Dad is the head postmaster at York. No doubt that morsel of information was an invitation to seduce her passionately behind a filing cabinet, whilst the glories of having a head postmaster for a father-in-law was supposed to play on my sense for self-advancement & ambition.

After tea I have a driving lesson with Harry until 8. Don't do too bad, though the weather is deplorable and we see a nasty road accident down Apperley (ever after) Lane, close to the home of the late Judith Beevers - and several fire engines and the police were in attendance, no doubt pinching the sacks of sugar which had made up the load of the lorry involved in the unseemly affair.

See 'Jennie Lady Randolph Churchill' and the death of Lord Randolph on the ITV programme. The so-called young Sir Winston looked hideous.

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Saturday May 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds Poor Diana Dors has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. Aged 52, she has suffered from cancer. We laz...