Epiphany. Rotten feeling when I awake, but nevertheless I plod on to the YP. Kathleen was surprised to see me and was preparing to cut the EP. Have a few laughs with Sarah, do all my work, and take a half-day at 12, coming home to the peace of this arm-chair near the window.
Gale force winds are ravaging Yorkshire at the moment & here I am sitting peering out into the bleak garden - my face streaming with cold, not unlike a white meringue with a red, sticky cherry on top (the cherry being my red nose of course). Mum comes in at 1.30 and gets me to rinf the doctor. Make an appointment for 11 o'clock tomorrow morning.
Ring Denny and inform her that the Queen's official birthday this year falls on June 14. She leaps with joy at the thought of spending another week with John and Sheila next summer. Over tea I inform John (John Philip that is, not John Edward) of this joyous piece of information but he is unenthusiastic. He says he wants a 'proper' holiday this year and refuses to waste a week in Windsor. Mum agrees with John and says that I cannot afford this. Whatever the cost, nothing can deter me from seeing the Trooping of the Colour for the fourth year running. Dear Christine B rang at about 11.30 whilst I was at work, and I think it's fabulous how friendly she is now.
-==-
20091216
Sunday January 5, 1975
2nd after Christmas. A nice, quiet day. Have beef for lunch and then see the film 'The Greatest Story Ever Told', a film on the life of Christ. My cold becomes steadily worse as the evening arrives, and it affects by head and ears. Bloody illnesses are a bore, they really are. The day will dawn when nobody is ever poorly, and everyone lives in perfect health until the end of time, because nobody actually ever dies. (Bloody well mad, aren't I?)
No more today, fans. My slowly sapping strength is needed for more important things.
-==-
Saturday January 4, 1975
Lounge around in bed until 11. Mum rang Kathleen about my cold. I'll be OK on Monday no doubt, but work just wouldn't do me any good this morning. Have lunch and then go upstairs to look for some counterfoils for a £15 postal order which was despatched to Barclaycard before Christmas. They keep sending me reminders about it, and I'm worried it's lost in the post. After an unsuccessful attempt to find them I sit on my bed in despair. £15 is a hell of a lot to have to fork out again. Mum tries to cheer me up by saying the Xmas post will have delayed it, but I can't see it being held up for two weeks.
Contrary to all my practices and beliefs as a human being I go with Mr Mather and Denny to the Hare at 10 o'clock to see all the others. I feel far from well and come home half an hour later to a barage of questions from Papa 'what has possessed you to go out supping ale in your condition'.
-==-
Contrary to all my practices and beliefs as a human being I go with Mr Mather and Denny to the Hare at 10 o'clock to see all the others. I feel far from well and come home half an hour later to a barage of questions from Papa 'what has possessed you to go out supping ale in your condition'.
-==-
Friday January 3, 1975
Home all day because I'm working 5 to 12 tonight. Get up at about 11.30 and remove the wilting Christmas tree from the lounge. The house looks bare without the familiar sparkle of tinsel and decorative objects, but the festive season is over now and we must all get back to reality.
Arrive at the YP at about 4.30 feeling awfully knackered. It isn't as if I've been up and about all day either. My throat feels unusually hot and I can sense a cold coming on. A busy night. Kathleen left all the filing for me - 2 EPs and 1 YP. A large bulk to battle through. Go across to the Central for a few lagers with Tony (Kelly). At 11.30 I stop work and have time to realise that I'm far from well. Keeping busy has kept my mind on the work. Get a taxi at 12 and home 20 minutes later. Sit about until 1 in a poorly state. Inform Lynn that I am not working tomorrow and go to bed. Kathleen won't be amused but I fail to see why I should put myself into an early grave for the sake of the Yorkshire Post.
-==-
Arrive at the YP at about 4.30 feeling awfully knackered. It isn't as if I've been up and about all day either. My throat feels unusually hot and I can sense a cold coming on. A busy night. Kathleen left all the filing for me - 2 EPs and 1 YP. A large bulk to battle through. Go across to the Central for a few lagers with Tony (Kelly). At 11.30 I stop work and have time to realise that I'm far from well. Keeping busy has kept my mind on the work. Get a taxi at 12 and home 20 minutes later. Sit about until 1 in a poorly state. Inform Lynn that I am not working tomorrow and go to bed. Kathleen won't be amused but I fail to see why I should put myself into an early grave for the sake of the Yorkshire Post.
-==-
Tthursday January 2, 1975
Have a rotten nights sleep and get up feeling a bit bog-eyed at 20 to 8.
Busy day at the YP with the New Years Honours List. Charlie Chaplin, PG Wodehouse and Gary Sobers are new knights, and the revolting deaf MP Jack Ashley is a CH. Chaplin is 85, and Wodehouse is 93. Mr Wodehouse may be a genius of the pen, but his politics aren't really what they should be. He made certain hideous broadcasts from Berlin in 1941 which upset everyone a good deal. As for Sir Charlie Chaplin, I'm not a fan of his at all. I do smile occasionally at his silent movies, but that hardly makes him 'knight worthy'.
Mum is 40 today, but like Jack Benny she says she's not going to get any older than 39. She does right too. Dad is 41 today. We bought Mum a series of black underwear, and Dad another new shirt. John and I have tea alone whilst Mum and Dad discuss buying a new car with one of Daddy's PC friends. Lynn and Dave are in Scarborough for the day. Lynn may be in love for the first time. (I think it's the first time anyway, but I wouldn't know about that).
Sit looking at the bedraggled Christmas tree and make up my mind to remove it from the lounge tomorrow - a sad occasion indeed.
-==-
Wednesday January 1, 1975
Michael Rhodes, 19 years, 8 months and 26 days. Here I am again, everyone. No doubt you're all sick of me, but you'll have a long wait if you think I'm going to pack it in just for your sakes.
The party was a tremendous success. At about 8.30pm last night John, Christine B, Chris and self went to the Hare where we were joined by the mob. Lynn and David, and even Martyn and Alison attended. In keeping with tradition we all went to the Commercial to see the New Year safely in. Mum and Dad are entertaining Ernest* & Edith Blackwell** in the crowded ale house at Esholt, and we draw the conclusion that far more people are out spending money on ale than at the same time last year.
Back to Pine Tops at 12.15 after hearing from Denny that Adrian is 'too poorly' to come. This is the first New Year in three years that Miss Akroyd hasn't attended. Uncle Harry came at about 2am and was stoned as usual. He says he now wants to join the Ulster police. Uncle H in Northern Ireland! That's all they need!
I stood on CB's toe whilst dancing and she lost the nail. Blood pouring everywhere. Not a pretty sight I might add. I felt unusually knackered all night, and Dave Lawson kept saying I looked 'lethargic', which seemed to give him a good deal of pleasure. A spot of bother came when Carol and Christine W attempted both to bed down in my precious sleeping place. David B (yes, I've reverted to the old style) had to step in and take them home at 6am. I went to bed shortly after.
Up at 1pm and sit in front of the TV for eleven hours. Had a good, peaceful time though. Lynn and Dave are going to Scarborough tomorrow. Lucky Devils!
*Ernest Blackwell (born May 16, 1907)
** Edith Hannah Blackwell (born Sept 11, 1909)
-==-
The party was a tremendous success. At about 8.30pm last night John, Christine B, Chris and self went to the Hare where we were joined by the mob. Lynn and David, and even Martyn and Alison attended. In keeping with tradition we all went to the Commercial to see the New Year safely in. Mum and Dad are entertaining Ernest* & Edith Blackwell** in the crowded ale house at Esholt, and we draw the conclusion that far more people are out spending money on ale than at the same time last year.
Back to Pine Tops at 12.15 after hearing from Denny that Adrian is 'too poorly' to come. This is the first New Year in three years that Miss Akroyd hasn't attended. Uncle Harry came at about 2am and was stoned as usual. He says he now wants to join the Ulster police. Uncle H in Northern Ireland! That's all they need!
I stood on CB's toe whilst dancing and she lost the nail. Blood pouring everywhere. Not a pretty sight I might add. I felt unusually knackered all night, and Dave Lawson kept saying I looked 'lethargic', which seemed to give him a good deal of pleasure. A spot of bother came when Carol and Christine W attempted both to bed down in my precious sleeping place. David B (yes, I've reverted to the old style) had to step in and take them home at 6am. I went to bed shortly after.
Up at 1pm and sit in front of the TV for eleven hours. Had a good, peaceful time though. Lynn and Dave are going to Scarborough tomorrow. Lucky Devils!
*Ernest Blackwell (born May 16, 1907)
** Edith Hannah Blackwell (born Sept 11, 1909)
-==-
20091215
Tuesday December 31, 1974
My half-day. Come home at 12.30 where everyone is rushing around preparing for the party tonight. Our famous parties grow more and more popular each year and we'll have to hold it in a marquee before very long. I clear all the rubbish out of the garage which has been piled there since Christmas. John helps me to burn it.
Mum is upset by Auntie Hilda, who informs her by way of the telephone, that the Gadsbys will not be patronising our Hogmany orgy this year. Mrs Gadsby really is the limit.
A sad day for this volume today. This is my final entry upon these pages, and in a few short minutes the book will be closed forever. What can I possibly say to put a fitting end to it? I know, I'll give a list of events which I think have been the most important of the year.
January: Vic Feather is raised to the peerage.
February: The Rt Hon Edward Heath resigns as Prime Minister; the Rt Hon Harold Wilson becomes PM (March 4)
March: Ian Ball attempts to kidnap Princess Anne, March 20; Lynn is 16 (March 6)
April: I am 19 April 5
May: Meet Judith Beevers (May 3)
June: Death of the Duke of Gloucester (June 10); John and I visit John and Sheila in Windsor
July: Finish with Judith Beevers (July 21)
August: Princess Anne, 24; Queen Mother, 74.
September: Lynn starts going out with Dave Baker; John is 18, Sept 25
October: General Election, Oct 10. Start going out with Lynne Mather
November: Finish with Lynne Mather
December: Santa Claus comes Dec 25.
Mary had a little pig,
She put it in a bucket,
But every time she took it out,
the Bulldog tried to put it back
Mary had a little lamb,
She also had a duck,
She put them on the matlepiece,
to see if they'd fall off
Mary had a little Pig,
She couldn't stop it grunting,
she stood it up against the sty,
and kicked its little head in
So, the year is nearly over. A new diary becomes operative from midnight. Hope you've enjoyed reading it. Obviously, I'm a boring writer and I cannot expect you to have devoured every sentence with rellish. I can understand you skipping a couple of months here and there. You're only human after all. Well, I'm going now. If you want to read about the party see the book headed '1975' in which a full and proper account of tonight's goings on will be preserved for posterity. God Bless you all, and a happy and prosperous New Year, which ever one it is next. After all, you could be a little chap from the 22nd century who has stumbled upon this diary. Wishing you a Happy New Year for 1975 would be a bit pointless, wouldn't it?
-==-
Mum is upset by Auntie Hilda, who informs her by way of the telephone, that the Gadsbys will not be patronising our Hogmany orgy this year. Mrs Gadsby really is the limit.
A sad day for this volume today. This is my final entry upon these pages, and in a few short minutes the book will be closed forever. What can I possibly say to put a fitting end to it? I know, I'll give a list of events which I think have been the most important of the year.
January: Vic Feather is raised to the peerage.
February: The Rt Hon Edward Heath resigns as Prime Minister; the Rt Hon Harold Wilson becomes PM (March 4)
March: Ian Ball attempts to kidnap Princess Anne, March 20; Lynn is 16 (March 6)
April: I am 19 April 5
May: Meet Judith Beevers (May 3)
June: Death of the Duke of Gloucester (June 10); John and I visit John and Sheila in Windsor
July: Finish with Judith Beevers (July 21)
August: Princess Anne, 24; Queen Mother, 74.
September: Lynn starts going out with Dave Baker; John is 18, Sept 25
October: General Election, Oct 10. Start going out with Lynne Mather
November: Finish with Lynne Mather
December: Santa Claus comes Dec 25.
Mary had a little pig,
She put it in a bucket,
But every time she took it out,
the Bulldog tried to put it back
Mary had a little lamb,
She also had a duck,
She put them on the matlepiece,
to see if they'd fall off
Mary had a little Pig,
She couldn't stop it grunting,
she stood it up against the sty,
and kicked its little head in
So, the year is nearly over. A new diary becomes operative from midnight. Hope you've enjoyed reading it. Obviously, I'm a boring writer and I cannot expect you to have devoured every sentence with rellish. I can understand you skipping a couple of months here and there. You're only human after all. Well, I'm going now. If you want to read about the party see the book headed '1975' in which a full and proper account of tonight's goings on will be preserved for posterity. God Bless you all, and a happy and prosperous New Year, which ever one it is next. After all, you could be a little chap from the 22nd century who has stumbled upon this diary. Wishing you a Happy New Year for 1975 would be a bit pointless, wouldn't it?
-==-
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