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Monday July 28, 1975

Lovely hot day. Summer is back again. The papers are harping on about the Prince of Wales's latest girlfriend. However, I'm not even going to mention it, because it's obvious to all intelligent life forms on earth, that these women who are frequently linked romantically with the prince are nothing of the kind.

I am going to say something about another guest of the Queen at Windsor this weekend. Namely Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia, the biggest royal t**t this side of Nell Gwynn. I know she's a relative of the Duke of Edinburgh, but I fail to see why Her Majesty should wish to be seen associating publicly with her. I can't see the logic. They don't go near the Harewoods at all, and he's only been divorced once. Princess Elizabeth has had one divorce and her 2nd marriage to Neil Balfour can hardly be called happy and stable. Tut, tut, Ma'am.

Home at 5.30 after a miserable day at the YP. It's now obvious that Sarah is impassioned by another, so to speak, because I laid a bet on with myself that she wouldn't patronise my party and she's cooled off thoroughly in her approach to me. However, I am not going to worry about it.

Carole rang from St Ives at about 7 o'clock and I wasn't very polite with her because I had just overheard Peter telling Sue that he'd seen her in the Fox with another bloke last Thursday. I'm not the jealous type, but it is a crafty, underhanded move on her part: especially after she got on at me so much because I said I liked going about with Sarah occasionally.

Dave B, Peter, 'George' all come round, and I give 'George' a guided tour of the garden. Mum and Dad ring later. They've been in Cromer today. They seem to be having a good time.

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Sunday July 27, 1975

Miss Dibb got me up at 10.30 and I really did feel fit and well. So too did Christine, but poor Dave B had gone down vomitting like Lynn. They are so alike when it comes to being sick.

No damage had been done, and all was well. Sue and the girls began with the meal, and John managed to sup seven pints of canned ale before 1 o'clock. At 1 Chris came for us, and Peter and Martyn joined us at the Commercial and later at the Hare. Back home at 2 for lunch after meeting Andy, Pete M and Keith. Andy always laughs at John as though he's some kind of comedian. I sleep after lunch until about 3.30, then I have the gruesome task of preparing for work.

Alison drives me to the bus stop in Dave's car, and I get a bus arriving in Leeds at about 4.45. Work until 12 and get a taxi home. Nothing much happened and it seemed to drag by. Home at 12.15 and they're all in bed - even John, who usually spends all his time at 'George's'.

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Saturday July 26, 1975



I didn't really have enough space yesterday to go into any more detail about 'George's' party. At one stage 'George' and I got carried away and we fell on the band, but all in all we returned without any injury. After the meal we came back to the Macdonald's for a few more drinks - champagne and cigars - and we staggered off home, or perhaps I should say we drove off home, and staggered up to bed.

Six or seven hours later we were out of bed and waving bye bye to Mum and Dad, who are going down to Ruby and Arthur's in Norfolk. Mum wasn't too pleased about me having a party tonight but Lynn used her charm and convinced her that all will be well. However, I was feeling terrible. A hot bath, which normally clears hangovers for me, didn't do so, and I thought the end had come.

'George' and Carole came round at 11am and I insisted on playing Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto and lying quite still on the settee. Carole isn't my type at all really and I don't see how we've managed to keep up the pretence for so long. She leaves at 12 and I won't see her until the end of August. Dave B managed to deflate her umberella (see foot of July 23) and I think it could be symbolic of our relationship.

The party: all went to the Hare at 8. Me in new trousers. Stayed there until about 10 o'clock. Stand with Dave L and Christine B all night. Dave is still my best pal after all these years and it's quite incredible how well we get on. The three of us come back to Pine Tops before the mob and we make a start on the drinks. All the usual come, other than Miss Carol Smith, and the only strangers were a few Durham University students who came with Ray. MM and Marita came looking like a pair of blacks and were quite jolly. Dave passed out upstairs just after 12, and the next to go was Lynn, who was violently sick, &c. Poor Christine drank vodka until it spewed out of her ears and she did nothing but cry. I took her for a walk at about 2am up on the common, and she lost her ear-rings. That didn't help matters, and it beats me how she always manages to lose expensive jewelry when she's drunk. The Braithwaite collection must have dwindled somewhat since Christine started drinking.

Al Dixon's brother, Graham, was also having a party, and Dave B, Martyn Cole, Al, and me went up for half an hour. It was completely dead and useless. On our return home I bedded down in the dining room next to a snoring Christine B, who looked like (in Dave L's words) a Japanese Mud Wrestler.

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Friday July 25, 1975


Great evening. John and I go down to the Hare at 7pm for a few drinks before going round to 'George's' for the coming onslaught. 'George' is 17 tomorrow, though you'd think she was much older. This isn't intended as an insult by any means, because I like her very much. We go to the Macdonald residence at 7.30 and meet Hugh or Hew, her brother, and his wife. The women take hours to get ready, and whilst the gentlemen are waiting we consume quite a few whiskies.

I know it's shameful, but I can't remember the name of the place in Bingley where we dined. I distinctly remember spilling a glass of red wine over the table and on Jimmy (Macdonald), 'George's' older brother, but the service was perfect and the waiters were falling over each other to clear up the mess. A trio played soft music whilst we ate, and after the meal they had a bash at a few rock 'n roll numbers. 'George' was playing the piano and Jimmy did a turn on the drums. Hilarity.

Carole, who I was supposed to partner, was incredibly dull, and didn't eat a thing, which put me off her straight away. She doesn't eat meat, fish or vegetables, and takes rellish in baked beans, and other crude substances. Is is down to her Roman Catholic upbringing? Mr Macdonald refused all offers of cash, and footed the bill himself. 12 of us: Mr and Mrs Macdonald, Hugh and his wife, Jimmy, John, 'George', Pamela Moffat, Carole and me. Sorry, I mean ten of us. Phew, it must have cost a fortune.

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Thursday July 24, 1975


As far as mechanical objects are concerned I am a complete and utter failure. You may recall that when I last borrowed an umberella (Dave B's) I had the misfortune to render it useless in Guiseley Railway Station when it jammed just as my train was approaching. Well, I suppose you are asking 'why bring this up?' and 'what's it got to do with us?', &c. Well, I'll tell you. When I arrived home at 1am this morning from Carole's I found that her Dad's umberella, which she had kindly lent me, and jammed in the up position and no persuasion of any kind would make it close up. Had I been on the platform of one of the many our great British railway stations I would have had to smash it to pieces with my bare hands, but because I was at home I took relief in the knowledge that it would come to no harm on the garage floor. And it's out there even now, 24 hours later. Not even John can do anything for it. Poor Mr Phillips isn't going to be happy when he finds out.

In her capacity as Mistress of the Robes, Sarah accompanied me to town for a trouser purchasing session. I managed to get a pair costing £9.90, which is the most I've ever forked out for trousers. We took an extra half hour for lunch and managed to fit one in the Generation Bar. I was livid and drained of all patience by the imbecility of the bar staff and I nearly died of thirst too. Efficiency is a must behind a bar, and that wench certainly had none.

I actually rang Denny this afternoon to see if we really need typhoid jabs - her being a travel agent I thought she'd have been notified. She said it didn't matter either way really, and something about it (the jab) taking four weeks to get into the blood! I ask her to come on Saturday night, and it all seemed like old times again.

Home at 6 and Carole rings an hour later to see if I want to go for a meal with the Macdonalds and John and herself tomorrow. I think 'Oh sod the expense' and say yes. She goes away for two weeks at the weekend, and I', still hell bent on retaining my absolute freedom. I must, I bloody well must.

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Wednesday July 23, 1975

Another queer day. More like April. It's pissing it down and I'll not dwell on the subject any more.

Work was uneventful and Sarah wasn't feeling too well. I'm willing to bet a small fortune on the subject of Sarah attending my party on Saturday. She's been very secretive about the whole business and every time I mention it she quickly changes the subject. Who cares anyway?

Home at 5.30. Mum is having tantrums about everyone and everything again. She didn't improve much either when Lynn put her foot in it and mentioned we might be having a party on Saturday night. I cringed at the mention of it. Women! Give me a family of boys any day.

The weather is horrible and I'm not looking forward to this evening's orgy with Carole at the Hare. She is all very well, but when the Queen is on TV no competition arises. I am rotten, aren't I?

Down to the Hare with John at 8.15. See Gillian and Naomi who are back from Newquay, where they had two hours of sunshine last week. John collects 'George' and Helen comes long of her own free will. Carole arrives at 8.30. She tells me her name is Phillips. Just think, if she'd been a boy and called Mark and joined the Queen's Dragoon Guards I'd now be a friend of royalty. Back to her place, just the two of us, at 10.30 and I stayed until 12.20. Walk home in pouring rain with her Dad's umberella. Don't get too wet, and on my arrival home I devour a bowl of chicken soup with plenty of pepper on.

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Tuesday July 22, 1975

Up at 7.55 feeling grotty. Having a birthday celebration on a Monday night isn't the wisest thing to do at all really.

To Leeds with Jim as usual, and work like hell all day. Some days I feel uncommunicative and doing piles of work is an alternative to chatting up Sarah and chasing her round the office.

Feel blocked up and stifled, and not looking forward to the jab I'll be receiving later on this week. John should be collecting the stuff from the chemists tonight, and so the doctor will be giving us the needle within a few days. Ah well, I suppose it's better than coming home from holiday and dropping down dead with typhoid.

I forgot to mention it, but Chris rang on Sunday from London saying he was having an injection too. Poor sod, I think he's very lonely down there.

Home in the rain at 5.30 and have tea. Sue began working full-time today at the hairdressers where she's been part-time for years.I can imagine her with a salon of her own in a few yaesr time. Just think, all the six of us employed people now. No more schoolchildren in the clan until grandchildren start rolling in.

Carole rings at 6.30 and I say I'll see her in the Hare at 8.30 tomorrow. Also meeting Christine B tomorrow night and probably Dave L too. I have no money but don't think for one minute that I'm going to let that get in my way. No, I don't do too badly really.

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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...